He walks miles to gather dry weeds and leaves
or scavenges through trash for cardboard
to kindle a flicker of yellow and orange,
staining his young face with black soot.
Fire the wood and coal,
flames in his eyes,
smoke in his lungs,
burns on his hands.
Fire. Feed. Eat. Live.
The warmth he seeks
claws at his childhood with
diseases, scars, and burns.
Blow on the fire,
dim his sparkling eye.
Blow on the fire,
dim his sparkling soul.
He blows on the fire until
his tender face ages young.
Then come the dementors.
And suck the remains of his core.
Zionist forces kill and destroy,
leaving him hollow and cold.
But resistance is what he knows.
In smoke and ash, he still grows.
From the ashes, he rises again.
As the phoenix, reborn from pain.
Blow on the fire, until the fire ignites.
Blow on the fire, be a fighter claiming the night.
Writer’s note: The lack of gas during Israel’s current war on Gaza has made it necessary for children to start fires daily to seek warmth and cook food. They walk long distances to gather materials, and they endure dangerous flames and harmful smoke. This poem captures the story of a boy’s continual exhaustion and suffering. Israeli forces are likened to the dementors in Harry Potter movies, creatures that feed on human souls.
