we are not numbers

emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights

Young girl looking through barred windows.

A letter to Zina

Tell her she was the light of my eyes / The star that guided my nights.
Young woman in pink headscarf and striped robe.

In memory of Ismail Al-Ghoul

Young girl looking through barred windows.
Ismail’s daughter Zina, after being evacuated to the south while her father continued to work in the north. Photo from the Instagram account of his wife, Malak Zreid

Tell her she was the light of my eyes
The star that guided my nights.

Tell her how I longed to hold her close
To feel her small soft hands on my neck.

Don’t tell her about the unicorn
I couldn’t surprise her with —
Bring it to her, and kiss her eyes.
Don’t tell her that hunger was gnawing at me
Instead buy her some grapes and two apples.

Don’t tell her I was beheaded. Don’t frighten her.
Tell her how deeply I yearned for her
How my heart aged in her absence.
How I cried when they separated us

Like a leaf left in the cold, falling alone
With no wind to carry it to the south.
Tell her I had to stay in the north.
Tell her I am a truth teller
And they fear truth tellers.

They silence our words forever.
But I am a seed, buried
To bloom in her future
She’s so young, my life’s jewel.

Ismail Al-Ghoul in press jacket.
Ismail Alghoul, Palestinian journalist in the Gaza Strip killed by Israel on July 31, 2024. Photo from his Instagram account

Soon she will be two
Shower her with love
Give her a princess crown
And take her to the water she loves
But never forget to keep your eye on her.

If she misses me
Promise her we’ll meet again in heaven.
Kiss her rosy cheeks for me
And place my photo under her pillow.

If she’s afraid at night
Don’t let her cry.
Hold her close to your heart
Whisper to her our favorite lullaby
And tell her how much I love her.

Nina Quigley.
Mentor: Nina Quigley

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