At break of dawn, they rose with dreams so small,
To earn a wage, to help their homes stand tall.
For just some pounds, they walked the dusty way,
To work in fields through labor's bitter day.
But death came swift, like thunder from the skies,
And snatched away nineteen with tearless eyes.
Mothers had waited, hearts so full of grace,
But news came home with horror on its face.
Fathers collapsed on earth with broken pride,
As if the ground itself for them had died.
Who bears the blame? A voice too high to hear—
He sits above, untouched by pain or fear.
Two hundred thousand for the dead, they say—
But can this gold bring back a breath, a day?
Will coins be wrapped within her funeral sheet,
To warm her bones beneath the winding street?
Will money dry the mother’s endless tears,
Or mend a father crushed by haunted years?
A girl once lit her house with joy and song,
Now silence rules where laughter lived so long.
I thought: what if that girl had been my own?
My body shook, my soul gave out a moan.
Why don’t such things strike warfields drenched in flame?
But come to homes that bear God’s holy name?
The roads are paved, but laws lie deep asleep,
No watch, no guard, just chaos in the sweep.
O fate unseen! Have mercy on the weak,
Who seek no feast—just sleep and bread they seek.
O grieving mother, let your sorrow flow,
And lift your hands to God who sees your woe.
In memory of the death of 19 innocent girls in a car accident on the high way on their way to work on grapes farms, El Monofia Governorate, Egypt, June 27, 2025.