we are not numbers

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

Blood, tears, and scream

Beneath the shattered Omari Mosque, shadows cling / Blood stains the earth, and sorrow sings.
Shahad Ali
  • Gaza Strip
Old building with tower made of pale bricks.
Great Mosque of Gaza (Omari Mosque). Photo: Dan Palraz. Creative Commons 4.0

 

Beneath the shattered Omari, shadows cling,
Blood stains the earth, and sorrow sings.
Tears fall like rain, drowning the night,
While screams pierce the darkness, a desperate fight.

I look to the sky, seeking solace above,
But ghosts of death hover, devoid of love.
Their icy breath whispers against my skin,
As the land below crumbles, frail and thin.

Stars above this wasteland, diamonds in a void,
Twinkle softly, offering only distant joy.
They call to my soul, a faint plea,
To rise beyond pain, to where I could be free.

In that expanse, where dreams take flight,
Will I find a peace hidden from sight?
Beyond the stars, in the deep midnight blue,
Will I soar in a world anew?

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