The Sound of The Siren

As the sound ripped the air and I stood still,

So cars stopped, people froze midstep until,

The siren had run its course dare we forget,

That this nation has paid a heavy, heavy debt,

And in the deafening accompanying silence,

The many faces of those victims of violence,

Some we knew, others remembered and more not,

Struck by their tragic eternal youth, the waste of what,

Should have been full lives, not lived, instead,

Leaving bereaved families whilst they were dead,

And as I heard this while the siren called, so too,

Did the others stopped in the street like him and you,

But not everybody could hear the sound, I witnessed, no,

Two women laughed and skipped as though to show,

That they were not part of the same still nation,

They spoke a different language which bore no relation,

To the words we speak, hear and understand,

That they were just workers working in our land,

And it was a defining moment where the siren had defined,

And I won’t pretend that I did not mind,

But the fact is not everyone can choose to be,

One who hears the sound of the siren, an Israeli.

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One Response to The Sound of The Siren

  1. Beattie Gellert says:

    Very moving. Mum

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