by Lynn White
A woman dries a baby in a towel after giving the infant a bath inside a tent at a camp for displaced Palestinians in Rafah, in southern Gaza, on Jan. 18. AFP via Getty Images via NPR, January 31, 2024
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There are no Magi to adore them now, the women giving birth in ramshackle sheds or freezing tents or in the rubble and cold and dirt of what’s left. There are no Magi to bring gifts, no shepherds to bring succour to the women giving birth in ramshackle sheds or freezing tents or in the rubble and cold and dirt of what’s left. Maybe artists will paint the scene but I doubt it. None are needed when we can already see, when we already know and then we don’t see anymore.
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Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality and writes hoping to find an audience for her musings. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Peach Velvet, Light Journal, and So It Goes.
Wow— Stark, beautiful
, haunting. Nothing else needed to illustrate the relentless horror that is Gaza.
She speaks the truth.