Gaza

Israel's refusal to host an independent international inquiry is being reported as yet another scandal. Was it not strange the way the boarding of the second ship, the Rachel Corrie, was treated by the media as a similar outrage? How dare the Israelis maintain a blockade! Once again, I recommend paying Michael Totten a visit. His aside about the hatemail he's been receiving is illuminating, yet unsurprising.

Staying with this topic, though changing tack somewhat, I bring you a poem I wrote about a year ago, inspired by the conflict between the Hamas militias and Israeli forces. It began as a simple exercise in controlled metre, written in sonnet form with strict iambic pentameter. As you'll notice, it deviates from the metric structure more and more as the poem progresses, and any future scholars may intone from this whatever they like. For you, on the other hand, have the iambic rhythm in the back of your mind: di-dum di-dum di-dum di-dum di-dum, and see where it takes you. It's called, Gaza.

The Gazans flee their burning homes in rags.
Set off on foot beneath a burning sky.
The evil bodies of afar attacking
The babies, children, mothers: pregnant all.
Hamas stands strong among the flaming rubble.
If only we could see such glee in fear.
Ignite the corneas of our sole foe,
And sing sweetly in the ears of terror.
The wailing echoes back and forth across
The billiard table of desert sands
Betwixt and framed by jagged mountaintops
Of sickly ash and smoldering lava.
The gates of Hell stand not much farther.
We trek the blackened baize of constant threat.