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Media Release – Protest of Support for Genocide by “Genocide Joe” and “Killer Kamala”
For more information contact Stanley Heller 203-444-3578 mail@thestruggle.org
The Middle East Crisis Committee (MECC) will lead a protest on Friday, August 16, 2024 from 5-6 p.m. in Danbury near Democratic Headquarters at 161 Main St. holding signs and banners to protest ongoing genocide in Gaza and the West Bank and the unquestioning support for it by the Biden Administration. The Committee will call on the Administration to bring ships and troops home that are currently backing Israel in its deliberately provocative campaign of assassinations.
Stanley Heller, MECC Executive Director said, “The murder of the twins of the Al Qumsan family along with their mother and grandmother caps off a gruesome week which also saw 100 Palestinians killed by a U.S.-made bomb while they were at prayer. All the while the Administration of Genocide Joe and Killer Kamala continue to pour money and weapons to the Israeli military. We also want to condemn the Administration for sending troops and ships to support Israel’s Netanyahu government as it assassinates Palestinian and Lebanese in a reckless move to provoke an all-out regional war.”
Some of the signs we’ll be carrying can be viewed at https://TheStruggleVideo.org/gallery
The Middle East Crisis Committee was founded in CT in 1982. Its website is TheStruggleVideo.org. It’s weekly video program can be viewed there.
Dr. Ezzideen Shehab, Untitled Poem
The day had begun with hope, a fragile, trembling hope, like the first flame that flickers in a storm.
We were preparing to open the medical point, four walls of wood, a roof of plastic, a table, and a chair.
Nothing more.
And yet, to us, it was a cathedral.
For in lands where hospitals are rubble, a single room where mercy breathes becomes a temple of the living God.
I had locked the door and begun to walk away when I heard a cry behind me.
“Doctor! Don’t go! Doctor!”
There are words that split the air like a lightning bolt; this was one of them.
I turned and saw men running, barefoot, carrying a child whose body was too still, too light.
They were running as if chased by the very angels of death.
And there, beneath the open sky, I saw the horror that words cannot hold.
The child’s hand was gone, devoured by the fire of man.
His bones gleamed white, obscene, like the laughter of war itself.
His face, oh his face, was burned into a mask of innocence and agony.
He did not cry; he looked, and that look will haunt eternity.
I pressed my hands to the wound, my useless trembling hands, and I thought:
What have we done, O Lord, that the earth itself explodes beneath the feet of children?
The nearest clinic was thirty minutes away, thirty minutes between a wound and salvation.
His name was Adham.
He was nine years old.
He had been playing before his family’s tent, holding a thin copper wire in his hand. He pressed it into the ground, not knowing that the soil of Gaza hides the fragments of war. The wire touched what men had left behind, and the earth exploded beneath him. In that single instant, the world was unmade.
That day, I understood: the universe is smaller than the distance between a wound and a doctor.
And in Gaza, that distance is infinite.
But even among the ruins, something greater than despair stirs.
The child was carried away, and I stood there alone, the blood of innocence on my hands, yet I felt that same blood beating in my own veins.
In that moment, I knew that as long as one man bends down to save another, God has not abandoned the world.
Tomorrow, the medical point will open.
It will not be a hospital; it will be a whisper against the storm.
But every whisper of compassion is stronger than the roar of cannons.
I will open the doors again,
because mercy is an act of defiance,
because healing is resistance,
because one small lamp of kindness lit in a night like this
is enough to shame the darkness of a century.
