Ballad of the Starving Children (Of Gaza) By Abdul Asad In Gaza’s night, so cold, so wide, A girl named Noor lay down and cried, No food, no light, no lullaby— Just mother's sob and father’s sigh. Her sister Hind, just five years old, Was found beneath the ashes cold. She clutched a piece of bread so tight, She died still hoping for a bite. Sweet Duniyah slept in her father’s chest, A final lullaby for her rest. The bombs had stilled her tiny breath, A cradle turned to dust and death. Another child lay near the stone, No voice, no pulse—just dust and bone. No toy remained, no gentle hand, Just silence in a shattered land. She said, “I saw my sister burn. She screamed for milk, none could return. The bombs don’t care for baby's name. We’re numbers now in hunger’s flames.” Young Yazan held a flag of white, But found no mercy in the night. He died while shielding sister’s head, A child’s last act before he bled. A girl named Layan wiped her tears, She said, “They ...
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