My poem dedicated to Hiba Abu Nada, a celebrated Gaza writer and poet who was killed in an Israeli airstrike on October 20, 2023 and to all other poets violently taken to heaven.
The Poet Is Taken
A nightingale of words, caged, yet uncontained,
she sang what no hand could silence,
kissed the fading edges of the past,
loved what had not yet learned its name.
Her lines stitched garlands onto quiet,
made bare rooms bloom with color,
coaxed astonishment from ordinary soil.
She brought a season of feeling,
now scattered across a thirsting earth.
Love and hope, joy and serenity,
petals from the nightingaleās garden,
where inspiration flowered,
where awe rose from common dust,
where gratitude once danced unbound.
Then metal darkened the horizon.
Hate laid its claim on love.
Explosions tore the sky apart.
Smoke folded itself around grief,
and screams learned the grammar of dust.
Night lowered its hand over day,
while the sun burned on, indifferent.
We who loved beauty mourned, but did not break.
We gathered the scented remnants from the ash,
lifted the nightingale with our breath,
and kissed her free into the heavens,
where she sings still.
By Khansaheeb
to basically everything he said I have had him on ignore for awhile but I was curious as to what the back and forth has been about let me guess Iām assuming your more than a little skeptical heās a military analyst as much as Iām a navy sealā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦.
