Not a Humanitarian, barely human

I- 

I am a humanitarian, or so I have been told.

So it says on the job description …

Then why is it that I have never felt this close
To losing the latest bits of my Humanity…
To my  sanity...

Why is it that I feel like a storm in a cage…

Like a worm in a badly written book…

Why am I  holding a Band-aid … when there is a flood … of blood?

Laughable.

Ants … I feel like an ant and every hope is a mountain…

I am an ant defying the Gods…

David? A tale, to make me believe…

Tonight I shall not

Tonight I can not…

II-

Have you been to Chatilla,

To Haret el tanak in Mina?

O the ongoing crime!

The ongoing crime is not Death

But the HIDEOUS…

When your eyes get accustomed to darkness

And your heart dries out like an autumn leaf

It is not poverty… not only that you see

But the crushing of souls …

And you can hear bodies breaking

Shhhh no one knows…

Let them die again

No one is aware of the smell of skin

Burning on the fire of the Ugly

No one can see me now

Melting from cold anger

When I Keep telling my Self
The same story my friends tell me 
"Dima...

You need a thicker skin

You need a thicker skin "

DS