The Silence of Cowards: Dedicated to Sha’aban al-Dalou

I saw the flames consume the sky,
As innocence bled beneath the lie.
They called it “precision,” they called it “just,”
But we saw only ash, and blood in the dust.

Children burned, their names unsaid,
Brothers, sisters, mothers—dead.
The West, with its righteous, hollow plea:
“Protect the innocent, but let them bleed.”

The Arab rulers, clad in gold,
Hearts of stone, their tongues too cold.
What do you fear, in the halls of your throne?
The cries of the dying, or your grip on control?

And what of you, oh silent West?
You preach of justice, you claim the best.
Yet turn your eyes when children die,
Condemn with whispers, while others fry.

The hands that sent the fire to fall,
They claim no blame, no guilt at all.
But what is left when the flames subside?
Graves for the living, and tears we hide.

Cowards, every one who sees
The burning flesh, the shattered trees,
And does not scream, and does not cry,
But lets our people burn, and die.

What more do you need to see the cost?
What more to know what we have lost?
Do not tell me of your shame,
When your silence fuels the flames.

And know this truth—the day will come,
When Sha’aban stands before the One.
He’ll bring you forth, your silence bare,
Your cowardice laid out in prayer.

Each leader, each voice that turned away,
Each hand that did nothing while children lay—
He’ll call you to account, your hearts exposed,
Until Gaza is free, and the truth is known.