we are not numbers

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

A living room.

Home

It's cold outside. / It has now been two weeks, / Three days, perhaps seven hours, / That I became houseless.
Ahmed Dader
  • Gaza Strip
A living room.
Photo courtesy of Ahmed Dader.

 

It’s cold outside.

It has now been two weeks,
Three days, perhaps seven hours,
That I became houseless,
Not homeless,
Since the rubble is now my bed.

The sky covers my soul
And stars light the dark,
Sometimes the bombs do that job too.

I lost everyone,
But I believe that
They’re in a safer place.
I want to join them,
But I don’t want to leave my home.
They need me here;
This is my home!

It was a terrible night.
Everything fell on our heads.

I saved three things,
My coloring book,
Mr Louis my teddy bear,
And my life.

I no longer know
If I’ll open my eyes tomorrow,
But I’m not leaving my home
Unless God orders me to.

It’s cold outside,
But my soul is warm.

Fire of faith,
Warmth of my home.

Man with goatee against a blue sky.
Mentor: David Tasker

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