Can we take a rest?
Maybe die for a few
months or years
and wake up when the poem
is complete,
when the flowers in our
garden start to grow,
their scent luring
the sparrows into visiting
our house,
our house that’s now
a small forest of rubble.
Fighting from outside is harder than I thought
But no worries at all
Everyone is trying to pull me to his side
Nobody cares about me as a person or as a Palestinian
They just seeing me as a content to get more reach
Everyone is trying to push me in politics and no one cares about what I lost or been through
Me(Gaza)
But in every dark place there is kind of hope
I was never going to be able to continue without this hope (some people)
There are enough days that you think you are back, making jokes and making plans, until you feel the random weight on your shoulders, the extra pounds on your mind, the general, sudden sink, & you remember the stubborn child still sitting on top of you. you name it grief
Every child killed in Gaza today would be alive if we had a cease-fire yesterday. These are the stakes. This is our failing. You can retweet this everyday until a cease-fire happens because it remains true. How high does the pile of bodies have to get?