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Under Canvas

Under Canvas

 

One week of living under canvas,

two soldiers on a military exercise,

was enough to dampen my appetite,

for rough and ready living.

 

It rained consistently on our canvas,

droplets of water splashed onto us,

our kit was soaked through,

we were cold and permanently damp.

 

Our rations were sodden,

our sleeping bags and clothes soaked,

we became depressed and spoke little,

save to bemoan our lot.

 

Hundreds of days and miles later,

whole families now live under canvas,

some condemned to the open air,

in wintry conditins of despair.

 

Not for a week but five months

this has been the lot of those in Gaza,

Palestinian families subjugated

reduced to the life of livestock.

 

Hunger, disease, no power or water,

they live in desperate hope,

hope to be free and live normal lives,

where they are not surrounded by corpses.

 

The dead bodies of their family members,

now long since departed,

victims of racism and segregation,

yet they remain faithful and steadfast.

A Noble People indeed.

◄ Hell's cul de sac

The Bomb Aimer ►

Comments

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Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh

Wed 21st Feb 2024 15:22

Thanks Keith.
I often contrast in my mind the slight sense of insecurity, that feeling of "adventure" in a foreign land, which I experienced whilst backpacking, with the plight of those forced to flee their homes under threat of bombing, only to be killed whilst on the road.

We should be bringing the whole of London and our cities to a standstill in protest at the abomination being perpetrated in our name, and expelling the ambassador of that fascist government reponsible.

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