All Saints’ Day never dawns

Unrelenting grief from Gaza

Haemorrhages out of my media

But, I can switch off my radio, my phone and my computer;

I have a comfortable home,

With food and medicine provided.

So, when I say that I am now numb,

I’m not as numb as some,

Who are tucked in by the devil

To sleep forever under the concrete blankets

Of bombed down ceilings.

Maybe they’re the lucky ones,

Others are doomed to survive

Entombed alive;

Or lie crying with wounds and hunger untreated,

Until the ethnic cleaning is completed.

In England, winter has come,

Ending this year with the day that the dead walk,

But All Saints’ Day never dawns.