The city reeks of death and tears / You might argue tears are odorless / How wrong would that be.
The ground was silent that morning / Not empty / silent.
Do not ask me for stars / Do not, because the sky and I / are no longer speaking.
There was a table once / Not a special table / Just wood / Just a surface.
When you love a woman from Gaza / you inherit a homeland / without ever touching its soil
If I had the choice / would I wake up somewhere / untouched by grief.
‘No life without my family / No mornings without my sun, without my home.’
The Earth is in pain. / It whispers, Stop! Stop!
I try to scrub your absence from my skin / but you were the sunlight, noor.
In the beginning was the Word, / and the Word was watched, / and the watchers were afraid of it.
Yesterday, I was young / my little sister, also young.
Enemies / eating the fruit of our trees / wearing our clothes.
