You can hear my soul, but not my voice-Song

 You can hear my soul, but not my voice

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.

I am a baby torn to pieces in the Gaza Strip.

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.
I am a baby burned to ashes in the Gaza Strip.

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.
I am a baby buried in debris in the Gaza Strip.

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.
I am a baby who never left my mother's womb in the Gaza Strip.

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.
I am a baby denied milk, left to die of hunger in the Gaza Strip.

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.
I am a baby who died without food in the Gaza Strip.

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.
I am a baby killed while undergoing surgery in the Gaza Strip.

You can hear my soul, but not my voice.
I am a baby who died without medicine in the Gaza Strip.

There are many more children — not just one, or two, or a few hundred.
We are nearly a lakh souls who departed with pain and horror before we even understood the world.

The silence of the world is far more horrifying than the missiles that struck us.

Recklessness, carelessness, and a lack of empathy have torn us apart and reduced us to ashes. Even last rites have become a luxury for our departed souls.

The so-called chosen ones, the so-called superior race, will celebrate our downfall with wine — which is our blood — and music — which is our cry.

The war would have ended, but the seed for the next war was sown.

From the ashes and the debris, there will be someone who will rise like a phoenix to see the darkness prevail forever in the holy land,
where God will be silenced, and every drop of blood will be avenged.

The souls of the children will become a new nation, which will emerge as a force —a force more horrifying than the concentration camp, and mark the end of the race that calls itself supreme.

The word "peace" prevails in the dictionary, but not in reality.

M.L.Narendra Kumar