In Gaza babies see a second birth,
born from the body then born from the earth,
the innocent witnessing their stillborn guilt,
born living then pulled in a caul of dust,
from ruins of the homes their fathers built,
as innocence departs to skies above,
where bombs fall as if from the wings of doves,
the drones absolved, the blind eye turned by us,
an innocence that we are guilty of.
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