There is broken glass on the street,
Lego blocks are no longer the only things that hurt her feet.
She holds a tattered teddy bear,
Cotton leaks out - like blood- at the tear.
Her schoolmates lay in silent rows on the ground,
on granite stones, her fathers name can be found.
She remembers her brother teaching her to play Hop-scotch with pebbles,
Now he throws those pebbles at the oppressors, along with the other rebels.
The windows of her childhood home are shattered,
Her brothers skin is scarred and tattered.
She looks down at the broken glass, which is now stained red,
And says a silent prayer for her father, her childhood and her brothers spirit which are all dead.
Nasirah Kathrada 

Charity for Peace in the Middle East