Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
When the world falls silent…
injustice finds its voice,
rising through the cracks
of broken lands and broken hearts.
Do not ask me
who they are—
ask instead:
who has been wronged?
For tears carry no religion,
and pain bears no passport,
and the wounded soul
needs no identity
to be human.
They speak of justice
in halls of power,
write laws in polished rooms,
and raise banners of peace—
yet when the strong transgress,
justice disappears.
Across the map—
a wound in one land,
a cry in another,
a child beneath rubble,
a nation beneath silence—
and still the world debates.
Between power and truth,
history is too often written
by the hand of force,
not the weight of justice.
Listen closely:
If injustice is not stopped,
it grows teeth.
If silence is prolonged,
it becomes betrayal.
If humanity sleeps,
it slowly dies.
The question is not
who you are—
but:
do you stand with justice…
or with power?
And if the oppressed falls,
while you remain silent—
know this:
you did not lose them alone…
you lost what it means to be human.
