By Nikki Powerhouse
Where do dreams go during a genocide?
Are they covered in smoke filled skies or
piled up like cemeteries scattered beneath brick on Gaza Strip?
Do they run for refuge without mother or father with eyes swollen by fear?
All the world watching
dreams flash red and gray nightmares.
An image of a thousand tears
bleeds our minds.
The innocence bear the heaviest cost-
there are no more dreams to dream.
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