Freedom
It is nothing, your death, little Palestinian,
whose name I cannot even pronounce…
Is there a word
less stained with destruction,
with suffering and blood,
than freedom?
The drumbeat resounds uninterruptedly,
wars are no longer declared,
but continued.
Flags are raised or lowered
victory or oppression
only time knows.
Oh freedom
where are you in Gaza?
in Syria, in Afghanistan, in…
No, neither for you
is there freedom or peace?
Are you sending a selfie to Facebook
before you die of hunger,
without freedom or peace?
Germain Droogenbroodt
