After the Bombing
The buildings collapsed like a house of cards.
The cards were not in the residents’ favor.
The favoring of damage over precision was the rule of the day.
The precise number of dead was unknown.
The unknown corpses had histories and dreams.
The dreams fled to the sun in rivulets of light.
The light fractured into fireballs engulfing the sky.
The sky blazed with shock, awe, and violent harm.
The harm was intentional, to expunge the story.
The story was written by a child on a school chalkboard.
The chalkboard had not been erased when the school was bombed.
The bomb left a gaping crater and a mountain of rubble.
The rubble buried whatever hope still sheltered there.
The promise of shelter for the desperate dispersed in ash.
The desperation flowed like dark water through the alleys.
The alleys were lined with body fragments.
The fragments were collected by survivors into plastic bags.
The bags were meant to hold food for starving children.
The starved climbed on aid trucks in a frenzy.
The frenzy of despair drives even sane people mad.
The madness of this war cannot continue.
The continuation of life hangs in the balance.
The balance of justice has not yet been decided.
The decision makers will take years to consider.
The consideration of who is human tarnishes generations.
The generations that endure will not forget.
The forgotten will return as ghosts to haunt.
The haunting can only cease through healing.
The healing cannot happen until the killing stops.
The killers return to their homes and children.
The children tug at their parents’ sleeves, asking, why?
Lisa Suhair Majaj
January 2026
Lisa Suhair Majaj is the author of Geographies of Light (2008 Del Sol Press Poetry Prize), of poems and essays published across the US, Europe, and the Middle East, and of two children’s books. She is also co-editor of four collections of critical essays, including the forthcoming Companion to Contemporary Arab American Literature (Routledge). Her poems have been translated into ten languages, and were displayed in the 2016 exhibition Aftermath: The Fallout of War—America and the Middle East (Harn Museum of Art). Her new poetry volume Why Doesn’t the Sky Love Us? is forthcoming. She lives in Cyprus.
Featured Image Έλεος by Nonie Khenkin. Quilter’s statement:“This quilt came to me as I sat in front of my TV, watching images of shattered Gaza. As I numbly sorted cloth “crumbs” into a greige palette of white, cream, and gray, my heart felt ripped, like the mutilated pieces of fabric my fingers mechanically stroked. In my desperation, I muttered “’Έλεος’” —mercy—as I prayed and sewed.”
Nicosia, Cyprus