'I am Leen, I am 2 I from Gaza. How are you!? Let's cook cook cook, let's cook cook cook."
"I am 3, don't cry mommy."
'I am 4, I want to play, I want to be free.'
'We are the Maorii people of New Zealand."
"Our voices have been silenced. "
Hands OFF OUR CHILDREN!!!
Native children and the children of Epstein island alike.
Voices are silent in Sudan. How can we cry?
Our mouths are dry.
Zimbabwe ei Kubala is a spokesnation for mental health needs.
Burkina Faso, Traore you're revolutionary,
I hope it doesn't circle back to your people fighting you one day
That is what it means right?
Because we all need a hero right now.
We all seek the Messiah, the Last Prophet.
We all await White Buffalo Calf Woman
While the fires of the hellish sun tear us apart
Snap
Aaaahhhh
But a coke will quench the thirst
For blood.
For innocence torn asunder.
We support a green world but we still need
Our jumbo jets for green peace gatherings.
We praise our false Gods
While the Earth Goddess weeps beneath our feet.
Species dying daily.
Gardeners revolution.
I'm trying my best to slow polution
My resolution is to support pollination.
Growing food and medicine alike
For my family, the creatures and I.
Little bees they hum their thanks daily.
For the little basin of water I share each day.
So much more than little Leen in Gaza
Who thought the war was over, her cup filled once more.
Dry
As the sun scorched skin of the Sudanese child
Who is nameless because Africa cries in the dark.
Great Zimbabwe's cursed shame?
Or simply that we've forgotten what it means
To be
Human KIND.
of people who can UNDERSTAND
with compassionate thought and reason,
That a child of Israel is no villain and does not deserve to bleed with the child of Gaza.
The Child of Maorii deserves to have their songs sung,
As loudly as the cries of the Sudanese mothers whose breasts run dry, clutched by deaths tiny fists.
Cry the beloved country, We know your name, do you?
Your silence echoes like the silence in the camps
Where crocodiles will now plunder
The tears and the souls of innocence again.
World we are at war,
We don't have 3 minutes to save the world.
We are lucky if we have 3 seconds to breathe.
The weight is titanic.
The cries louder than the creaking bones of
Ships lost at sea.
The strange fruit quivers as it's seed tries to sprout in a world that feels too familiar.
Too frightening to utter.
The butterfly
Won't make it without the milk weed.
But we keep on killing trees,
To save the economy.
Going green, as the infected wounds
Of children in enslaved nations.
Below the dark depths,
Others lay in wait,
For the rising of the sun.
How else do I say it?
And still I know I've only touched the surface.
We're all drowning
Will we learn to breathe again...
Hazel Phillips Dube
Willow Miyanda Rivers
From my soul to the soul
Of all life.
