Eid: Little to celebrate today…… 3 voices on Gaza, poignancy and poetry


Eid Message


 The Eid came to the Muslims around the world; it came to make people happy and draw a smile on children’s faces.

The Eid went in the streets of Gaza, one after another, the children have disappeared, the Eid started shouting for the children between the rubble and the destruction to wake up, Ramadan is over and now its the time to wear the new clothes and buy the toys, its time for the sweets, for the playing and for the fun. 

The Eid found the children with burnt clothes, with cut body parts, with destroyed houses, with oppressed images, with torn apart toys, with hurt feelings.

The Eid cried and left.

The Eid called his worse enemy “Mourning” and told him to go to Gaza.

Mourning is in Gaza now.


Abu Yazan (Team leader at Gaza youth culture centre and member at Gaza Youth Breaks Out (GYBO)


My family in Gaza


My family in Gaza is on the run. They are already refugees but made refugee again as they are trying to escape for their lives and the lives of their children. Complete devastation and destitution and poverty. Some are living on handouts since they cannot gain access to their homes. I had to apologize to my sister as I told her happy Eid. Their is no happiness in Gaza. Nothing but death and destruction wrought by Israeli Nazi war criminals with US arms and western backing and Egyptian support. Everyone I know in Gaza is praying for the resistance, brave men feeding on few sips of water and dry bread while holed in tunnels refusing to surrender. 55 families in Gaza have been completely wiped out. Hundred of dead bodies are still lying under rubble of their homes in border areas. Smell of death everywhere. Humanitarian crisis is getting worse. Tens of thousands if people are living in UN schools which are often bombed by Israel. None is safe. Nowhere is safe. But surrender is not on the agenda. Not now. Not ever. Long live Palestine. Long live Gaza. Long live the Resistance.

Ramzy Baroud (Writer/editor at the Palestine Chronicle)


A poem for Gaza


I never knew death

until I saw the bombing

of a refugee camp


filled with

dismembered         legs

and splattered   torsos

but no sign of a face

the only impression

a fading scream


I never understood pain

until a seven year old girl

stated up at me

with soft brown eyes

waiting for answers


I didnt have any

I had muted breath

and dry pens in my back pocket

that couldn’t fill pages

of understanding or resolution


In her other hand

she held a key

to her grandmothers’s house

but I couldn’t unlock the cell

that caged her older brothers

they said:

we slingshot dreams

so the other side

will feel our father’s presence!


A craftsman

built homes in areas

where no one was building


where he fell



a .50 caliber bullet

tore through his neck

shredding his vocal cords

too close to the wall

his hammer

must have been a weapon

he must have been a weapon

encroaching on settlement hills

and demographics


so his daughter

studies mathematics


seven explosions


eight bodies


four congressional resolutions


seven Apache helicopters


eight Palestinian villages


silence and a second Nabka


our birthrate


their birthrate


one sea and 400 villages re-erected


one state


two peoples

….. and she can’t stop crying


never knew revolution

or the proper equation

tears at the paper

with her fingertips

searching for answers

but only has teachers

look up to the sky

to see Stars of David

demolishing squalor

with Hellfire missiles


she thinks back

words and memories

of his last hug

before he turned and fell

now she pumps

dirty water from wells

while settlements

divide and conquer

and her father’s killer

sits beachfront

with European vernacular


this is our land!, she said

she’s seven years old

this is our land!

she doesn’t need history books

or a schoolroom teacher

she has these walls

this sky

her refugee camp


she doesn’t know the proper equation

but she sees my dry pens

no longer waiting for my answers

just holding her grandmother’s key


for ink


Remi Kanazi (poet, writer and activist, based in New York City)



Carol Anne Grayson is an independent writer/researcher on global health/human rights and is Executive Producer of the Oscar nominated, Incident in New Baghdad . She is a Registered Mental Nurse with a Masters in Gender Culture and Development. Carol was awarded the ESRC, Michael Young Prize for Research 2009, and the COTT ‘Action = Life’ Human Rights Award’ for “upholding truth and justice”. She is also a survivor of US “collateral damage”.

About Carol Anne Grayson

Blogging for Humanity.... Campaigner/researcher global health/human rights/drones/WOT/insurgency http://www.esrc.ac.uk/ESRCInfoCentre/PO/experts/Health_and_Wellbeing.aspx Exec Producer of Oscar nominated documentary Incident in New Baghdad, currently filming on drones.
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1 Response to Eid: Little to celebrate today…… 3 voices on Gaza, poignancy and poetry

  1. Chuck Veilleux says:

    the poetry – very good – always love your posts. 🙂

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