QUERENCIA || prose/poetry

"The Blood of the Innocent."

my jaw aches,
i don't know if the pain stems
from my head or the tooth rot,
it travels my brain, so incessant;
it doesn't let me rest anymore-
my nerves throb like barbed wires,
sleep slips further out of reach,
unforgiving and merciless, it roars,
the night turns into a clenched fist.

my cheek tightens,
pulling against the slumber,
i think of those who
wake to aching limbs and
hearts heavier than their hunger,
yet stay grateful for what little
peace they sifted through the rubble.

the dental drill had me anxious
i recalled the sounds of drones,
flying above their incorrupt
lives like a naked sword,
i wouldn't know how to honor
for my gashes are too flawed-
their resistance, their strength;
the nature's their mourner, and
i'm unqualified to even applaud.

i am blessed!
i know i am blessed and
my pain is insignificant to all
those children and toddlers
who lost their limbs to
occupation's self-declared war.

i am grateful for this ache,
for knowing my pain can be named
is evidence that i'm privileged enough,
the warmth of these soft sheets,
the luxury to feel my tooth decay-
just becomes an afterthought.

i can't bear to lose a penny
i bargained with my dentist for it,
i picture their grief and
how it spreads like spilled ink,
blotting out every name of the family from whom they'd never inherit.

whom do they bargain with?
whom can they bargain for?
the thieves and docauts
ruined their lands,
those ill-bred bastards that
stole their homes.

my pain wears silk, monsieur,
my discomfort seems fleeting,
i could never carry their weight-
their hearts beat beneath ribs
made from iron,
while mine folds too easily.
they are innocent humans whose
heart knows how to grieve
and function simultaneously.

they walk through the ruins
and laugh with kindness twinkling
under their unshed tears,
beware how you speak of them!
for every pebble on that land
witnessed their martyrdom.
they rule their tragedies,
they are the kings and the queens
who homed devils their neighbour.

the thieves are shameless
they'll rot and oh, how!
their skin shall coil in hell's flare.

they are cowards, sir,
they don't know how it feels
to fight with real men.

come one, come all!
for the spawn
of occupation's filthy dawn-
raised with no conscience,
and no remorse,
shall teach you how,
with righteous force,
a colonizer cloaks
their true course,
while claiming virtues
to be their cause.

i am not glorifying their screams
i am not praising their loss,
but when i wake up,
broken in sweat
from my night paralysis--
they are all i think of.

a/n:
man, they are the greatest of mankind.
(wrote this while waiting for my dentist appointment. it feels wrong to edit. so i didn't).