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CUB Magazine Issue 578: Celebration
November the 5th
Khadijah Majid
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Thinking of the fireworks outside Blasting off in quick succession Like missiles And Bullets
How privileged am I That I can listen to these sounds And know They are producing something beautiful A plethora of colours across the sky
There are many that can’t say the same.
In Gaza, These sounds mean the loss of a home. A legacy, a life
Reduced to rubble and tears.
In Palestine, Children shake their fists
At the sky Inviting explosions
For throwing some rocks.
In Syria, Babies are woken from sleep.
They cry in tandem With the sound of the guns.
The world loves to celebrate The West loves to forget Or ignore – I can’t decide Which is worse.
The fireworks don’t sound So Comforting Anymore.
They sound bloody And Broken As they light up the dark Painting the sky With a mural of guilt.
