we are not numbers

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

Poems

Yes, Yara / you will survive / but what is survival?
Omar turned his head up to the sky / his heart aching / for his murdered brother’s family.
We huddle, shivering, in a serpentine line / a thousand souls, each yearning for a loaf of bread.
I know Jerusalem, our capital / from pictures / I see the Dome of the Rock / on the covers of my books.
Thank you for forcing me to question everything, everything inside me, around me, even my existence in this universe.
Laugh skinny guys; now I hate winter too.
Behind this door, a mother waits for her lost son’s return / as if she never understood the meaning of death.
The whispering walnut calls / begs me to breathe / to stop crying. / To return.
Fire. Feed. Eat. Live. / The warmth he seeks / claws at his childhood with / diseases, scars, and burns.
After the new year was beheaded last year / she decides to come back for this New Year’s Eve.
Some witnesses confirm they saw him / distributing presents in Ahli hospital / before the bombs destroyed it.
Again, it is December / Second December / Without stars.