Forget the first world war. Remember the children of Palestine.

While they looked back

one hundred years

and for the ancient

dead shed tears,

bright futures of the young

were daily lost.

While red poppies

were lain on graves

for all those who

could not be saved

the flower of youth

was pounded into dust.

One hundred years ago

is like a dream

beside the pain and grief

occurring now.

With your ears full of

dying children’s screams

how can you think of

long dead soldiers? How?