I’m on FaceTime with my uncle,

he shows me the TV. 

A reporter stands there talking, til

news flash: one, two, and three. 

Three cities full of people,

told to run and hide.

They make their way to the shelter, pleading

God, don’t let me die.

Others aren’t so lucky, 

their story comes to an end.

Streets normally filled with traffic

covered in bodies instead.

My cousin says it’s lockdown,

the outside world is bleak.

Glued to that TV,

for the terror runs too deep.

I was at my happiest

in this foreign land.

Now it’s being washed away,

a dispensable piece of sand.

Why is it a tangled web,

a mess, it shouldn’t be,

a political decision, a right or wrong,

where everyone will disagree. 

Oseh Shalom

A fun song we scream when we are free.

Oseh Shalom

Bring peace to you and me.

The desperate hostages,

waiting to be released. 

Oseh Shalom

Please bring peace to the Middle East.