El Male Rachamim

They shall not feel the cool kiss
of gentle rain where they rest,
Burned against the hatred fire,
Lost to ancient history’s sands.

How they spiralled away in
shortened time to a crack,
Buried concrete with rips
torn across the diary’s page.

Words were forgotten as faces
flashed in final light,
A last message that cried
to endless void, endless sorrow.

We shall not feel the cool kiss
of gentle rain where we stand,
Burned against the hatred fire,
Trapped in present’s mournful gaze.

el male rachamim

Vive la solidarité entre les peuples!

el male rachamim 2

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