Rescue Plane

I wish I had a rescue plane to fly over Gaza to drop wheat flour and tea bags, tomatoes and cucumbers, to remove the rubble of the houses, to retrieve the corpses of my loved ones. I wish for a second rescue plane to drop flowers for children— the ones still alive—to plant on the graves of their parents and siblings in the streets or school yards. The wish behind the wish? I wish there were no planes at all. I wish there were no war.

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