'Rubble'

(for Maha)

When kids play in the dust and rubble

that used to be their home,

there is no challenge or trouble

in pouring an ice bucket over your head.

With 500 children dead

and thousands left in life-destroying pain,

instead;

I’m pouring rubble

over my bald head.

Can you raise funds for a child

who’s paralysed from the neck down

even if it’s not from ALS

but rather from the IDF;

and still call it a challenge?

I call it a duty.

With no clean water,

and lucky to have survived,

Maha’s family mourn their daughter

while she's still alive.

When children play with

unexploded ordinance,

I cannot leave it to chance

for someone else to lend a hand

to clean up their playgrounds,

their schools,

their beaches,

littered with the rubble

of human rights breaches.

Challenge or not,

I’m covered in rubble

-even before I pour-

it’s the debris of humanity;

the rubble of our collective soul.

© Francisco Rebollo 2014

 See the video here

Maha injured

Maha leaves Gaza

http://freebeacon.com/national-security/israelis-take-als-ice-bucket-challenge-to-next-level/

Israeli UN Ambassador takes up the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge

 Francisco Rebollo  (aka flycisco)  http://flycisco.blogspot.ie/ @flycisco Writer, activist, pilot, surfer and father of a young boy. A Mexican living in Ireland writes poetry and is currently working on his first novel working title: 'Propdogs'

Four Boys Playing Football on the Beach

I’m Messi!

No, I’m Messi; don’t you start!

Okay, I’m Neymar; beforehe got hurt.

Neymar? You’re crazy, I’ll be Van Persie

My brothers and I,

sun, sand and blue sky.

Who knows? Maybe one day

we will be household names.

For our ball,

a small buoy

My dad said it’s got holes

so now it’s our toy.

The match starts,

we kick with bare feet;

and singing hearts.

I try to do a trick,

but it goes wide off the sticks,

no goal… but boy; what a strike!

We run and pass;

we kick some more,

We’re all getting tired,

I get lucky, and score!

Like a real star I kiss my shirt,

try to glide on my knees,

and point up to the sky.

As we’re catching our breath,

loudest thing ever heard:

Swooosh! Bam!

And we’re down in the sand.

My eyes cannot see,

I can’t feel my feet.

I think of mama and pray.

Before too long

they hit us again

ending my pain.

Four boys,

lying like

broken toys.

Will the world now make us household names?

Ahed, Ismail, Zakariya and Mohammad Bakr.

  4 young boys of the Bakr family were killed by Israel on the beach in Gaza: 

©Francisco Rebollo

Bio: Francisco Rebollo  (aka flycisco)  http://flycisco.blogspot.ie/ @flycisco

Writer, poet, pilot, surfer and father of a young boy. A Mexican living in Ireland

writes poetry and is currently working on his first novel working title: 'Propdogs'