Today, Essa welcomes Ouda
at the door of Jannah.
They have the hug they missed
when a rocket took Essa so quickly.
They see the beauty of Palestine
that they had never seen on Earth.
In paradise, the aching still
grips their chests and throats.
Should they sing with angels?
Can they sob and shed tears
in Jannah?
They cry over Gaza,
over the orphaned children
who will know their Babas
only by photos and stories,
while the rockets and bombs
stir their hair and blankets
and interrupt their dreams.
They cry while Emad
evacuates a third time,
searching for a tent in Rafah.
They see Abdullah, Rana, Khalil,
everyone. They still see everything in Gaza.
No blackout interrupts Jannah.
Look!
Mohammed and Mahmoud
search for water and flour.
How crowded Deir Albalah is!
For a little break in the mood,
Essa smiles and pokes Ouda.
Look.
Basman is sitting in a corner,
holding his phone, crying and smiling.
He must be writing a poem about us.
Editor’s note: Essa is commemorated in Basman’s poem, His name was Essa. Tribute pages at this website commemorate Mohammed Zaher Hamo and Mahmoud Alnaouq, respectively.
