Day 923

An elderly woman, frail,
thrown by a soldier
against the wall of her house.
She dies hours later:
internal injuries.  Her family
stunned.  A young man,
already dead, shot by a sniper,
stripped, lies naked
in the street in a pool
of his own blood.  A van
filled with laughing, joking Israelis
runs over his body. Again.  Again.
Crushing his silent
bones, bruising
his already open flesh.
A three-year-old
shot in a market,
a nine-year-old in her classroom.
Others killed in a café.
The weeks a litany of brutality.
A father wailing, wailing
in agony
at the murder
of his young son.  Do we wonder
at all that his cries
do not reach the enemy?