Damita Melchi- Contributor

From the river to the sea, 

Watermelon hung from the tree, 

We will be free. 

One Congo and it silently wails, 

the west trembles because we awaken. Two

children play amongst the rubble, their

laughters turn to screams, they haunt us.

Three mothers mourn until morning, 

in Gaza’s alley they seek solace.