Sunday, 31 August 2014

'Rubble' (for Maha)


When kids play in the dust and rubble

that used to be their home,

there is no challenge or trouble

in pouring an ice bucket over your head.


With 500 children dead

and thousands left in life-destroying pain,


I’m pouring rubble

over my bald head.


Can you raise funds for a child

who’s paralysed from the neck down

even if it’s not from ALS

but rather from the IDF,

and still call it a challenge?


I call it a duty.


With no clean water,

and lucky to have survived,

Maha’s family mourn their daughter

while she's still alive.


When children play with

unexploded ordinance,

I cannot leave it to chance

for someone else to lend a hand

to clean up their playgrounds,

their schools,

their beaches,

littered with the rubble

of human rights breaches.


Challenge or not,

I’m covered in rubble

-even before I pour-

it’s the debris of humanity;

the rubble of our collective soul.

Copyright © Francisco Rebollo 2014




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  2. Featured on: 'The Poetry Daily'

  3. Featured on ' poetry24' on Fri Sep 5th, 2014.