Huda Saik is an English literature student at Islamic University of Gaza. She dreams of a future as a professor, poet, and writer.
Tranquil by name and nature, Huda’s being is defined by passion and reflected in her diligence, perseverance, and unwavering focus. She loves walking and taking photos of beautiful things, capturing the essence of beauty in every detail she encounters. She lives in the heart of Gaza City’s A-Rimal, where her love for nature’s myriad wonders — winter’ s embrace, the symphony of sunsets, the moon’s gentle glow, and the tranquil nights — inspires and captivates her soul.
She believes in the power of storytelling and pens words that resonate with the spirit of Palestinians. She seeks to illuminate the essence of Gaza, sharing its profound meaning with the world.
Amidst the turmoil of conflict, writing is her solace. It fills her days with purpose and meaning. In the corridors of IUG’s English Department, and driven by a profound love for poetry and stories, she learns not just about literature but life itself.
Current as of June 2024
I am only / a child / but my red shoes lie buried / beneath the broken wall.
The world watches Israel starve and decimate my people with impunity while I’m frightened and hungry.
As universities are bombed, professors murdered, and campuses turned into shelters for displaced families, choosing to study is an act of resistance.
The sun rises over Gaza / piercing another suffocating night / after the atrocities of an endless siege.
Harsh weather, inadequate shelter, and ongoing attacks create a dire situation that threatens our very survival.
Hush! Listen closely! Can you hear someone’s last breath / Can you hear it? Can you feel it? / Can you imagine it?
A ghostly city, devoid of life / Like scenes from the movies, full of strife.
It’s much harder to keep learning in the midst of Israel’s war on Gaza. But it’s not impossible, and it’s imperative.
Thousands of students want the war to end so they can resume studies and work toward dreams that have been derailed.
In Gaza, Mohammad sought to register / the birth of his twins Aser and Aysel, / only three days old
The dream of returning to a normal life in northern Gaza fuels my endurance.
Tell them / Tell them / we are more than numbers / more than silent echoes / in a ledger of loss
