we watched the smoke rise like prayers,

but no god came to listen.

buildings crumbled,

and with them,

entire histories,

entire futures.

we’ve funded this ruin with quiet hands,

signed blank checks for bloodshed,

called it “aid”

while the cries of children

disappeared into dust.

the rubble of gaza

a grave we dug

with indifference.

last night,

a man wrapped in power

stood on a stage,

his words heavy with promises

of ownership,

of exile,

of erasure.

he said we would take gaza

as if it were a trophy,

not a land bleeding.

he said its people

would be sent away,

to jordan, to egypt,

to anywhere but home.

and half the nation

roared their approval,

their voices a flood

drowning truth,

drowning humanity.

they called it defense,

called it destiny,

called it right.

but we are the invaders,

the ones who destroy and deny,

the architects of genocide.

we dress slaughter in the language of freedom,

wave flags above the ruins,

and demand to be called saviors

while the ground screams beneath us.

how abhorrent it is,

to become the monster

and still demand reverence.

to tear a land apart

and silence a people

while pretending

your hands hold justice.

we are the villains.

and history will remember,

even if we refuse to.

every brick,

every life,

every desperate plea

will testify

to the horrors we embraced

and the humanity we left behind.