I saw your Facebook post,
About Gaza, the wounded, dying and dead.
The photos which had no right to be taken,
Of maimed children on blooded mattresses,
And parents screaming uncontrollably into the emptiness.
I looked hard through the comments underneath your post for sadness and tears,
But saw only anger and self-righteous indignation,
The very fuel for the engine of the next wave of death and destruction.
So, please don’t send me any more photos of dead children,
These tiny seeds of anger for next year’s harvest of hatred.
Each photobite a perch upon which your anger can rest awhile,
Before flying off to the next tree.
Please don’t tell me you know the answer.
Please don’t tell me you are right,
Because being right is the padlock on the door to peace.