A sequel to my letter of last year.

Dear Santa,
here we meet again.
My wish list is still
the same.

I wish for
a full day of electricity.
Travel out of Gaza
and back.

To fish in peaceful waters
under a moon.
To drink water that
tastes sweet.

But under winter's clouds,
we have only four hours of power.
The gates are closed,
a curfew at sea.

Drones fly in the sky
and in my head.
They steal my sleep,
leaving insomnia instead.

My country is
erased from the map
like a mistake
in the world’s memory.

Dear Santa,
a new year will come—
will my list
see the sun?