In Pal*****e

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In Pal*****e, where olive groves run deep,

Resides a grove of resilience, secrets to keep.


Each tree, a silent storyteller of old,

Watches the dwellers’ tales unfold.

Now lost, nowhere to be found.


In Pal*****e, where children’s laughter once soared,

Turning skies grey, their innocence adored,

Now lies silence, as deep as the ancient sea.


In Pal*****e,

Where rubble births new tales of genocide,

Once stood mosques and schools side by side.

No prayers or play sounds in the air,

Only searches for loved ones ‘neath despair.


In Pal*****e,

No sounds but artillery’s shrill,

Missiles’ bangs, echoing, a deadly drill.

No lullabies, just somber sleeps,

Where mothers yearn, their babies to keep.


No brother to nudge, no sister to nag,

In the rubble, only echoes of a lullaby drag.

Courage roots deep, in trenches, it keeps.


In Pal*****e,

Humanity persists, faces the wraith,

Courage, resilience, in the face of death.

Hope scatters through the vast sky,

Faith flows in streams, refusing to die.


Each tree, each rock, a witness to generations lost,

Now dead, like secrets, in history’s loft.


In Pal*****e,

But lives endure with faith,

Endure with spirit of grace,

Facing challenges no one should face.


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