Two poems by Christina Margeti

Gaza.

The skies were filled

with birds of steel.

Merciless leaders

with flying hatred,

sowing Hades

in cities and villages.

A stream of blood,

flowing,

for the treacherous

interests.

Empty eyes,

glow

with death.

Dreams are deserted.

Nests torn down.

The wailing is heart-rending

as the East touches

our small screens.

The fire of war.

The human race:

a curse upon creation.

At dusk,

terror lurks.

And yet—

A spark

is born timidly.

Humanity’s

resistance is defined by:

Poetry.

When it encounters horror,

it does not remain silent!

In the streets

it cries out,

a militant herald.

A thousand times

Don Quixotes,

rather than bear

complicity

and indifference!

And if we long

for the great book

of life,

having left our initials behind,

let us stand

by the defenseless,

like castles!

.....

IN THE TREE OF MY CHILDHOOD YEARS.

Silently

it cast its shadow,

the ancient tree.

On its broad trunk,

children lost

in tales of magic.

It played hide-and-seek with us,

and its breath,

filled our nostrils.

On its branches,

dreams spread out,

and it—

it too

dreamed a thousand dreams with us.

It always listened,

but never betrayed

 our secrets.

Tight embraces and vows

buried in its roots.

To this tree…

To every tree…

Have we ever said thank you?