The ongoing conflicts in Palestine and the Gaza Strip reflect a tragic cycle of violence fuelled by deep-rooted injustices and 
external political interference. Faith, often exploited and weaponised, becomes a source of division rather than unity, amplifying 
wounds rather than healing them. Powerful nations backing one side or the other frequently escalate tensions, prolonging 
suffering and blocking paths to peace. In these wars, there are no true winners—only countless losers. Each act of violence 
plants seeds of new hatred, pain, and bitterness that will inevitably sprout in future generations, threatening the possibility 
of lasting peace and understanding. It is a cycle that must be broken before it consumes more innocent lives and the hope 
for a shared future.

Children cry where schools once stood,
Not knowing why the sky rains fire.
A mother digs through broken stone,
For hands she kissed the night before—
She finds a shoe, but not her son.

Across the fence, another waits,
An empty chair, a silent plate.
Her boy was taken in the dark;
His voice now held in quiet chains.
They call it justice—she calls it grief.

Flags rise high to mark their pain,
Each colour claims a different name.
Each anthem drowns another’s tears,
But none speak for the buried souls,
Whose dreams are lost beneath the dust.

Rockets fall with no regard,
Bullets spare no one at all.
Walls grow tall to keep peace out,
Not safety in or freedom near—
Just cages built with stones and fear.

This is not defence or right,
But vengeance carved in flesh and night.
Rage is written deep in rubble,
History consumed by flame,
And futures vanish in the blame.

Leaders speak of promised days,
As if children build the way.
But futures rise in learning’s light,
Not graves that grow beneath the fight,
Nor mothers’ tears that fall like rain.

There are no winners on this land—
Only parents’ silent hands,
And children waking all alone,
With empty rooms and broken homes,
While hatred feeds the endless war.

Faith itself is not the crime,
But power wielded through belief.
Religion’s name is worn as shield,
To hide the wounds of loss and grief—
Until we break the chains of fear.

End this war before it ends
The fragile hope that still depends
On peace that lives in every heart,
Not just in words or fleeting art—
But in the lives we choose to save.