Buried Promises Poem by Sajal Ahmed

You've anchored a stone deep within the heart,
Never once have you turned your gaze,
From the ruins of bricks —
The delicate hand of Ismail emerges!
A wound splintered and raw!
He can't summon the strength to cry 'Mother, Mother, '
Upon his innocent visage,
Zionist residue clings to his eyes,
All sealed shut on a fateful afternoon.

I've heard — silence blankets his lips:
And those who are voiceless, do they not have an enemy?
In a world dulled by duty; stained in shadows,
Whose shoulder bore this bullet
That has pierced, O Mother?
Will you reveal to me that list of demons?
At the very least, I will, in the final reckoning —
Reach God with this;
The truth of that impotent army's valor,
The misuse of weaponry —
The account of Ismail's skull,
The portraits of famished faces,
Buried amidst the ruins — thousands of bodies,
Lost in the debris!