No Safe Word in Gaza
There are no red lights in rubble,
no pause when concrete splits beneath a prayer,
She cried in a language older than gunmetal,
her voice shredded through airThick with gunfire, sand,
and shame—her tongue swollen, twisted to survive,
A plea for mercy vanished in the static, erased by boots pressed close,
aliveWith want and war; soldiers choked on laughter,
translating her consentInto property rights, treaties signed in bruises and spit,
a punishment hell-bentOn making her body a checkpoint,
her sex a treaty violated before it’s even drawn—Borders mapped on bleeding thighs,
flags knifed in flesh that dreams of dawn.She was not a battlefield, not a campaign,
not a trophy for the men who posed,
Yet they scrawled new borders with blade and cock,
declared her “enemy exposed,”Spoke words of peace as camouflage,
every kiss a bullet’s echo in disguise,
And history will list her as a number,
never naming the way a child diesBeneath her ribs,
or how a nation’s shame turns women’s bones to sand,
Every “neutral zone” just means another body no one dared defend or understand.
There are no cameras when the cuffs are silk,
when the peacekeepers take their turn,
Her mouth a pipeline for foreign aid,
her moans mistranslated as lessons learned.She prays, lips torn,
for a silence stronger than the UN’s failed decree,
Yet every scream is lost beneath the drones,
each bruise a border no one will see.The men in uniform wink for each other,
mutter “she’s lucky it wasn’t worse,”But luck is a dog that eats her own tail,
and every home’s just another hearseRolling through the checkpoint,
full of hope and ancient dust,
She opens her legs not for love, not for faith,
just because surviving is a must.Consent is a rumor with shrapnel for teeth;
survival’s a joke told over her skin,
Every “human shield” a child on a leash,
every prayer another war crime to begin.
There is no safe word in Gaza, just wounds that close too late,
No safekeeping, no defense, just the turning of locks and fate,
Where faith is a loaded question and every answer splits in two,
Where men unzip for God and country,
then forget what women knew—That war is just another word for rape
when politics taste like blood,
And the only safe word anyone remembers is buried deep in mud.She did
not die for victory, did not rise for glory, did not kneel for kings,
She just vanished beneath the satellite feed, another loss the newsman sings.
But the flag still rises in the morning,
stitched from her hair and spit and screams,
The generals call it honor, the presidents call it dreams,
The world scrolls past the footage, too tired for grief, too numb to mourn,
Her children nurse on memory, her name already tornFrom the record,
her womb another checkpoint, her tongue another lie,
She bled alone in darkness while men made history and men decide
who dies.No safe word in Gaza—no treaty, no ceasefire, no hope behind the door,
Just the silence after the screaming stops,
and the world decides to want no more.
Her name will not be written, her face never trending,
her truth unwelcome in light,But somewhere beneath all the ruins,
she is still alive—A ghost in the marrow,
a voice in the nightThat curses the silence,
that damns the lie,And prays for a world where safe words mean more
than just “don’t try.”