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Writer's pictureLara Flanagan

If not now


poetry


I saw a photo of the body of a 3-year-old girl alone in an empty room this morning.

Alone because her family was gone. The doctors were gone. The press was gone. The civil defense was gone.


The poor people of Palestine and now Lebanon are desperately recording their most desperate moments. I don't believe it is to get the world to listen anymore, it is simply to say, "I was here". They are leaving behind a record of the horror so one day the world will no longer be able to deny their existence.


As much as some days I want to turn away, some days I can't stop crying, some days I feel completely impotent, and some days I feel an unbelievable rage, the least I can do is to help tell their story. To be a witness. It is the least we can do.


If not now

 

If not now, then when?

If not us, then who?

If not enough, then what?

 

Genocide. Holocaust.

Slaughterhouse.

Endless kill zones.

Evaporation. Devastation.

Apocalyptic.

 

If not now, then when?

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