So many crimes, So little time.

 You can't post fast enough to document the crimes the terrorist state of israel is committing in Palestine, Lebanon, Iran, Jordan, and Syria. A sadistic, barbaric society.

CLICK on the pictures. Mazel tov?

"Why can't you feel for us?" RAZAN AHMAD ALRIFI

"My mother was a martyred?"

"My father was a martyred?"

"My brother was martyred?"

"My nephew was martyred?"

"My sister was martyred?"

"We are exhausted!"

"Why can't you feel for us?"

A Vigil for the Holocaust in Palestine.

 

image one

The light of this earth is the children; the chosen people are EVERY HUMAN BEING, sharing the same timeline.

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Compassion is the lesson from the Holocaust for every human being.

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If only the children of Palestine had a Jewish israeli family compassionate enough to protect them. 

 

Thank all fictitious God, ANNE FRANK isn't a Palestinian girl. The religious Jewish soldiers would shoot her in the head for existing.

The Babies Didn't Die Alone: They Had Each Other.

I am a writer. I will place you there. 

You wander inside an abandoned hospital. Just imagine yourself a ghost, an ethereal being. You have no body mass, just soul and consciousness.

You hear loud screams. Crying. And the babies hear each other. Too little to understand that the others cry, too. Too little to even have an expectancy to be picked up. Comforted. Fed.

They cry in pain. There's no sadness. Too little to experience so many emotions. Their bodies hurt for nutrients, for water, for their mother's milk, drying in their breast under one of the thousands of collapsed buildings. 

So the little creatures cry and cry. They hear each other. That's the last thing they hear in this world: each other. And the loud sounds of the bombs from the Fourth Reich of The Terrorist State of Israel.

And no one comes for them. They cry and cry and cry, and little by little, it begins to subside; all that crying, one by one until only one baby cries. No one is coming. The IDF has condemned them to death. Their crime is being of Palestinian descent.

I don't believe there's a God of any kind in the universe, except all the ones my fellow human beings invented. Each one more murderous than the other. But they need them. I'm left with empathy.

With God in your heart, you imagine angels coming to take them home. An atheist like me imagines the hungry dogs arriving there before they were dead. 

And a single thought soothes my soul: Marco Aurélio, they are too little to understand the screams of the ones being eaten alive.

My heart hurts for the Palestinians. And I have no faith in anything. That, for an atheist, is death itself.

A Mother's Womb

     The place you don't remember, is the safest place you've been; your very existence is proof of that. A heartbeat away from yours is your mother's own heartbeat, pumping life into every part of your tiny body.

     Your mother; the being that creates you, feeds you and gives birth to you, eventually will expose you to this world.

     The israelis, after killing Palestinians for six months, have perfected the art of Genocide and invented THE DEAD WOMB;  a place life seizes to exist.     

     The Palestinians can always be found near death itself; with nothing but faith, resilience and an inexplicable will to live;  side stepping our eternal foe and valiantly saving their families, friends and neighbors.

     While the israelis were busy perfecting the art of killing, the Palestinians have found their way into our collective nightmares and we watch them perfecting the art of living: 

without food, without water, without love, without all that makes life worth living.

     The Palestinians seem to be whispering to us the greatest secret of all: a human being can outlive almost anything except the necessity of having each other.

🍉  LONG LIVE THE Palestinians!   🍉 

a mother and her children

The Terrorist State of israel 

A neighborhood 

Conjuring up Ghosts in the Backyard.

 I'm about to go to bed, forcing myself to sleep. The first image I have when I open my eyes is of some child I have never met, a child that has been murdered in Palestine. The last thought at night is of some unknown dead Palestinian; 

it is the same anguish I felt when I was 9 years old and learned about the Holocaust; the anguish of not understanding how German society could be so cruel.

I had shut down my computer and had to put it back on again to bear witness, to place here the face that came upon my mind as I set my bed;

A child that went to sleep and woke up with an explosion that you israelis conjured; her father gone; her mother gone; her sister gone; her brother gone; her cousins gone. Her home gone.

She walked to her bed as you and I and the entire world did and woke up missing family and limb; one of the israeli children pressed a button and launched a missile that changed her life in an instant.

She survived that attack and woke up without her family and missing a leg, but her spirit pushed her forward, and she made plans to become a doctor; 

"to help others," she said hopefully.

Then, one of your children pushed another button and conjured another missile that found her in bed, sleeping, AT A HOSPITAL.

She didn't survive that.

And I am 58 years old, anguished and unable to understand how can the israeli society be so cruel. So vicious. So inhuman. So unjewish like.

I'm going to press the publish button and try to sleep, and her memory will be with me until I do: 

The memory of her lying there in bed, crying for her family, trying to find hope for a new beginning, or as she stated, 

"My life is changing now."

But to change, you need to be alive. So I will try thinking of that instead: that there might be hope for the Israelis, the Germans, the Americans, the British, and all the people tonight engaged in hurting others.

To change, you need to be alive so there might be hope for your genocidal society. 

Perhaps, one of these days, you israelis will get tired of killing and hurting and raping and torturing and conjuring up ghosts in your backyard.