Imprints of Desperation

 The food we ate yesterday

Was not from our farms,

neither from our pockets.

 

The water we took yesterday

Was not from our homes' sources,

Nor from the taps in our houses.

 

The tents we slept in yesterday

Are not the homes we built,

Nor those of our forefathers.

 

All this is from those who pity us,

From those who try to understand,

And those with guilty consciences.

 

All this is the result of those who feel power over us,

Those who claim ownership of this world.

 

Last week, a father lost his daughter.

She died because they hadn't eaten for weeks,

And though he held on,

She grew tired and decided to rest from this game.

 

Yesterday, a five-year-old boy died

From the dirty water we consumed last week.

Now we all look at each other, wondering who's next.

 

Tomorrow, a pregnant mother will die

Because here, we lack a proper hospital

To carry out the necessary procedures,

And those who attempt to help will use

Rusted metal to cut the umbilical cord.

 

Today and tomorrow blend,

Unclear who will make it through the cold night,

And those who will endure the scorching sun,

Which dries the dirty water we try to share.

#Mariam Salah #The Muse’s Notebook