Poetry by Kat

Free Them.

I wake up today and rub the sleep from my eyes.

A mother in Palestine wakes up today and rubs the dirt off of her deceased child.

I wake up today and turn the heating on, shivering in my safe and loving home.

A family in Palestine wake up today, shivering in the streets, their house was bombed last night.

I wake up today and playfully punch my younger brother in the arm.

A boy in Palestine wakes up today and holds his brother close, fearing he won't see him again.

I wake up today and ignore the news, it isn't my problem right?

A girl in Palestine wakes up today and is forced to watch her childhood friends cry out for their parents.

I wake up today and complain about having to go to school.

A teacher in Palestine wakes up today and prays his students are safe somewhere.

I wake up today and wave at my neighbour as I walk past her house, her garden is neat and beautiful.

A man in Palestine wakes up today and sobs as his neighbour fails to make it out of his house that is ablaze.

I wake up today and roll my eyes at the sound of a baby crying next door.

A nurse in Palestine wakes up today and desperately hopes to hear the crying of babies on the ward except for the silence of the dead.

I wake up today.

Innocent people in Palestine do not wake up today.
They lie dead in their homes, streets, schools, hospitals, workplaces.
Our silence, is in fact Violence.

Being able to eat in your house is a privilege.

Being able to flick a light on and off is a privilege.

Being able to wake up is a privilege.

Being able to read this fucking poem. Is a privilege.