By Abdulghani Al-Shuaibi
O tyrant heart, does pity not take root?
Where olive branches weep beneath the flame,
You silence mouths with famine’s iron boot—
A crafted curse, yet call it not by name.
As fields lie bare like parchments scorched and torn,
The milk of mercy dries in mothers’ eyes.
Each child you starve becomes a world forlorn,
A ghost who cries beneath unhearing skies.
This is no storm of nature, blind and wild,
But man-made wrath that feeds on flesh and fear.
You write in hunger’s ink upon each child
A death foretold the world must shame and hear.
For pity’s sake, stop now this dark parade—
The world looks on. Time shall not let you fade.
Note on Language Use:
The term “Starver”, as used in the title of this poem, is a neologism, intentionally coined to describe a famine-maker: one who deliberately weaponizes hunger as a tool of oppression or war.
This creative usage aligns with Shakespeare’s own linguistic innovations, such as Lady Macbeth’s famous cry: “Come, you spirits… unsex me here” (Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 5), where “unsex” is deliberately invented to express the transformation of identity and morality. In similar fashion, “Starver” transcends standard usage to expose a modern crime against humanity: the systemic starvation of people in Gaza.
All images are courtesy of Dr. Abdulghani Al-Shuaibi
