Basman Derawi was born in Kuwait and lived there for two years before coming to Gaza. A physiotherapist for the Ministry of Health, he graduated from Al-Azhar University in 2010 and was in Egypt taking a course in physiotherapy in October 2023, and has had to remain in Egypt since then.
He thinks of writing as a remedy — a tool that can change the world and be used as resistance. He is inspired by music, movies, and people with special needs. One of his dreams as a Palestinian is to share and show Palestinians’ real faces as they struggle and work for their rights. He also loves to read, cook, and play video games and basketball.
Current as of December 2024
I know my poem won’t / prevent the next bomb / won’t even save itself / from choking under the rubble.
Today I dream of my toilet / I know you don’t give a shit / I don’t give a shit either / and have not for almost a week.
In the back of my mind / the year is different / I still live in my garden.
Since the 7th of October / I put my life, even my crying, on hold / I was living but not alive. Was it real?
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.
I look at the sky and say / A year without you is a lifetime.
In Octobers, / the summer said farewell. / A shivering cold stood at the door.
Knowing where you are now / hearing of what your life is now /… / I reconsider the shape of my hope.
I would never have thought / to write an ode to Ouda’s vocal cords / but here I am searching for words.
My great-great -grandfather, / times 100, / lived in London once, / he and his family.
