A Memoir Of A Little Boy Of Malaysia - Poem by Shemsi Elsani
By the time you read this, I will still
much alive (unless Allah love me and want me to come to Him) or that person called Benjamin Natenyahu sent a bullet through my tummy or head, like he did to my brothers and sisters in Gaza. Or he drop a bomb on my home.
I merely 8.
I am a Malaysian.
As I was born in Malaysia, I am very well and living out my childhood to the max (If you know what that means - I am very much in doubt you do)
And I am too a Muslim, like that poor little boys and girls from Gaza.
They and me, we worship same Allah (in case you don't know)
The Only One, The Almighty.
I case you get confused, every single things created by Him. And Only Him.
The only different is, I am not being shot by those heartless (or is it too much for me to say human-less?) Israel.
I am a boy, and we don't use bad words here in Malaysia, at least not for an-8-year old (It isn't something of a good manner - even if we really are mad or angry or pissed off)
I know all about Gaza when I saw news on my personal, curve screen Samsung smart TV (you see how luxury I am compare to them (my brothers and sisters in Gaza))
And if you have no idea, I didn't write this with my left little finger, nor I wrote this using my own blood.
I typed this on my retina display screen Apple MacbookPro (I hope you know what that is) .
Mind you I am merely 8.
I am too cried when I am writing this, but it isn't because I lost my fingers or my tummy is bleeding or anything as such.
I cried because I couldn't do anything to help them.
I feel so bad about it. It's like you are watching your favourite toys being tossed away or snatched or destroyed by enemies that you had no power over him. All left for you to do is cry. That how bad it is, the feeling inside of me. I think if I were to say bluntly, I cried like a girl (not that boy doesn't cry, but girl always cry more tha boy does) .
Not that I don't want to help.
Not that want to cry either.
Well, if you had cut your little finger, all your body would feel the pain, not only your little finger. That how it is with me and my brothers and sisters in Gaza.
I might not be shot at, but I could feel the pain as much as they do.
They are my brothers. Their blood as red as mine.
I could feel their tears on my tongue.
And those red blood spilt on my face, and it's warm.
Yet all I could do is watch, retching, cursing (optional as I am not allowed to - I am eight-I do it anyway) and crying (which isn't something 'cool' for a boy like me) , but I do anyway because I just can't held them inside my eyelids. They just don't want to stay inside.
Forgive me for being such a weak boy.
But I have a lot of tears to shed.
And they never get dried.
So I figured, at least I could write this for my brothers and sisters in Gaza. They are all my brothers and sisters and moms and dads and grandads and grandmoms and aunties and uncles and friends, a real close one. (You see how close we are)
My blood inside my very veins flows inside their very veins too. We're nothing but brothers.
In fact we are all do, in case you don't know.
There are things I would like they to know;
1. I wanted they to know they are all my brothers and sisters.
2. Yes I do love to reach their arms and hug them tight (even though they are dirty or smelly or bleeding or even dead- I don't mind)
3. I would like to go and help them kill those Israel, only that I am not Al-Qassam myself (I wish very much I am one of them-may be one day I would) . And I just an 8 year old (I wish very much I am older or at least stronger)
4. They will always be in my pray and doa' every time.
5. And if by gave up my Samsung curve screen TV, or my Apple Macbook retina display or my XBOX 360 console or all of them, will ease their pain I would do that, without hesitation.
6. I will no longer send any bullets to them, as I have done it countless time before (you know those HAPPY MEAL - as you might probably know it's one of McD meal, was once my favorite, make me happy without realizing I actually sent bullets to my brothers and sisters in Gaza) . Yes, I do know what exactly I must do! NOW!
6. And I will always pray that one day I would be able to meet them, all of them, if not here on earth, let it be in heaven.
7. Nothing will make me happy then to let others know and make them too, think and act the way I am now.
Comments about A Memoir Of A Little Boy Of Malaysia by Shemsi Elsani
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe