Freedom Flotilla

They sail, not for glory,
but because silence has teeth.

Twelve hearts in a boat
cutting through a sea
that reflects not stars,
but the glow of burning homes.

Gaza cries in real-time.
Wi-Fi strong. Morals weak.
Each pixel a limb.
Each frame a funeral.
And still, mute screens,
louder than the bombs.

This is not bravery.
It’s what’s left
when humanity fails.
A boat against a graveyard tide,
offering aid
where the world offers excuses.

Bon voyage, they whisper,
to the mad ones who try.
The rest scroll past,
watching a livestreamed genocide
between soccer videos and silence.