The Hebrew advance, and again Philistine children and women die.
Daphna Baram made a poem on BBC:
“Silly children why do you die? Why do you die on TV? We took out our settlers, put a wall around you, locked you in, and still you are ungrateful. Can’t you understand our need to bomb you? Why do you die on TV? The world is all against us, it always will be, why can’t you help us a little, why do you die on TV?
Your suffering masks our historical rights, your ghetto makes ours forgotten, you are the new martyrs, and what’s left for us, how dare you die in anonymous mass, we’ll send all our air force to punish you now, how dare you die on TV.
The public is calling for crushing you down, elections are due it’s a war of survival. It’s our homes we defend it’s our natural right, it’s the chair in the government for which we will fight, if you don’t understand, we shall show you our might, why do you die on TV?
You have to appreciate, time is now scarce, soon enough the tide is to turn. If you will in your cruelty make us march in, and our soldiers, our children, will start dying in your narrow alleys, our people will turn on us as swiftly as sin. The gung ho cries would stop, a new circle will begin: what are we doing there? Who sent us in? What is this folly? Why can’t we just win?
This is why, silly children, we don’t mean to kill you, but we need you do die fast, we need you gone as long as our permission lasts, we need your parents to learn to not mess with us. Can’t you do us this favor, for the sake of peace and trust? But please do not die on TV.
We tried it in Jordan, we tried it in Lebanon and when it failed we tried again. No one could blame us for lack of persistence; if our method is broken why fix it? It is your responsibility to make it work at last. It is your responsibility to make us right.
And you have no-one but yourselves to blame if you keep defying us, you have no-one but yourself to blame for turning our claim for victimhood into a farce. It is your fault that we expose out children to your pathetic rockets; it is your fault that not enough of them die to make us look good on TV.
We want to stop, we really do, but you are binding our hands. Why do you enrage us so, why do you die; why do you die on TV?”
Source of this poem: Why do you die on TV?