Mi Gaza Es Su Gaza

I've been pondering the recent events for a while, and as the plane crossed the Palestinian coast as it left Amman on her way to London today, I looked out the window to the far distance, trying to defy my eyesight into reaching the far southern tip of the coast, where people's souls are taking a special stairway to heaven, not the Led Zeppelin song, but one with no closed border crossings or besieged neighbourhoods.

I'm not a fan of pointless blogging, that's probably why I don't blog alot, as I know that when I don't have anything to say, I don't say anything, but I had to think about that stairway to heaven in the distant horizon today, I could swear I saw a band of angels on a cloud, they probably were there to carry the souls of the fallen children onto their homes beneath the walls of the Throne of God, that's where they belong, safe like they never were, or any human will ever be. I saw a little girl with brown hair combed in a pigtail lying in her blood on TV today, she's probably looking at the face of God now, no higher honour can make up for her murder.

They're the living, and we're the dead, Gaza in Arabic means a needle stick, a name synonymous with pain, and pain is the only constant found in Gaza today, but bodily pain can heal, the pain of conscious on the other hand is terminal.

Gaza has a stairway to heaven, I saw it today.