Mosab Abu Toha

Forest of Noise

At my first history class, the only students attending

are the future, the present, and the past.

But when I step in, the future gets ready to leave, while the past is handcuffing the present, slicing its hamstrings, and dyeing its clothes gray.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed in a tent, looking for water and diapers for kids; destroyed by bombs;

a generation under the rubble of their bombed houses;

I saw the best brains of my generation protruding from their slashed heads.