A voice cries out from Gaza,
Rattling the bones of a city buried alive,
Where the moon shines not with light, but fire—
Searing the skin of the innocent, whose cries burn the stars.
Netanyahu, masked in power, claws through the dust,
With iron fists and war crimes carved in stone,
He stands tall on a tower built of bones.
Blood-drunk and breathless, a butcher’s gaze fixed on the young,
Coffins line the streets, and still he says, “More.”
America, land of the free, or that's what they say,
Sends its silence wrapped in dollars, bombs in place of bread,
Joe Biden nods, eyes downcast,
Kamala claps her hands to the beat of children’s screams.
Oh, the democracy they peddle like poisoned wine,
While the grapes of wrath are crushed beneath the rubble of Gaza’s streets.
But don’t you see, the West’s freedom is a chain,
A shackle on the wrists of the voiceless,
Tied to the rockets that fly overhead.
The stars and stripes dance with bloodstains tonight,
In the halls of Congress, they speak of their duty,
But duty is sold, piece by piece,
To the highest bidder, while children dig graves with their hands,
And mothers kiss their sons’ foreheads one last time.
Oh America, you send your bombs with love notes,
To a land drowning in tears and smoke.
You call it defense, you call it aid,
But who defends the defenseless? Who saves the souls
That scream beneath the weight of empire’s gaze?
Famine stalks the streets of Gaza,
Not the famine of bread, though that too is gone,
But the famine of hope, of breath, of dignity stripped bare.
Hollow-eyed children stare at the empty skies,
No birds here, no freedom here, just drones that sing the death-song of nations.
Is this the peace you promised?
To lay the land bare with iron teeth and hollow promises?
O, Netanyahu, you, blood-soaked king!
How many bodies will it take to build your throne?
How many souls crushed beneath your chariots of fire?
How many tears must fall before the world looks your way?
You send your armies, your lies dressed as shields,
But there is no shield for the child asleep in her mother’s arms,
When the bomb tears through her walls—
Her only crime: being born beneath her sky.
Do you see her, Benjamin?
Do you count her bones, or just her silence?
How long must we wait, O world,
While the streets run red with the blood of the innocent?
How many more Hijazi families must we bury,
Before your conscience stirs?
How long will you stand on the sidelines,
While Gaza burns and the children’s laughter turns to ash?
Who will tell their stories when all the storytellers are gone?
But here, in the shadows, there is another cry—
Not of silence, but of defiance,
Not of despair, but of resistance.
The Houthis in Yemen, Hezbollah in the hills of Lebanon,
Stand, fists raised, not in surrender, but in fire,
For they know what it means to be forgotten,
To fight with stones when the world gives you nothing but chains.
They rise like shadows in the dark,
The only ones who dare to speak when the world bites its tongue.
Do you hear it, Biden? Do you hear it, Harris?
Do you hear the crackle of bones beneath your feet,
As you dance in the halls of power, pretending you cannot see?
You shake hands with death, you laugh with war,
While the people of Gaza cling to the edges of their lives,
Torn from the earth like weeds pulled from the garden of history.
You fund this genocide with the blessings of Hell,
A nation built on the backs of slaves now watches
As another people are shackled,
Another people buried beneath the weight of empire’s breath.
Oh, Kamala, daughter of the dream,
Do you not see the dream crumbling in your hands?
The dream is not the tanks rolling through the streets,
It is not the drones that hover in the night like vultures over prey,
It is not the bombs that strip a people of their right to live,
No, the dream is the mother’s lullaby, sung to her child in the midst of fire,
It is the hand held out in the darkness,
The voice that whispers, “We will rise.”
And rise they will—
For in Gaza, beneath the ashes, beneath the rubble and the ruin,
A heartbeat still echoes.
The people, they do not fall; they do not disappear.
They rise like the sun over the sea,
Bright, unbroken, and fierce as the tide.
You cannot bomb away their spirit,
You cannot erase their names with drones.
For every child lost, another rises,
For every mother weeping, a song will be sung.
This is not the end,
This is the beginning—
For the soul of Palestine is not buried,
It flies, it sings, it rages,
And in the end, it will be heard.
And Netanyahu, you will fall,
You will fall not by the might of missiles,
But by the might of truth.
For the world cannot stay blind forever,
And the blood on your hands will turn to chains.
And Biden, your silence will not save you,
Your complicity will not shield you from the reckoning that comes.
For the cries of Gaza are louder than the bombs,
And the tears of the mothers will drown your lies.
Rise, Gaza! Rise with the strength of the sea,
For the world may turn its back,
But history will remember your name.