Palestinian youth tell the human stories behind the numbers in the news

Palestinian youth tell the human stories behind the numbers in the news

Khaled Al-Ostath | 09-12-2019

Moving on from the death of a loved one is not easy. I am not sure if I will ever move on from what happened. I can’t fix it and I can’t forget. I think of her every minute of the day. I ask her and myself why she did what she did, and I can’t find any answers. Yet I have to live with her memory all my life, knowing I can’t bring her back, ever.

The Suicide, by Edouard Manet

It is night
and I think of her 
as a goddess,
so close, yet so far.
She told me once, 
You and I were meant to be.  
I smiled and laughed 
and between her arms
I was home 
for the last dawn.  

I stand alone on the shore,
my tears flowing to the sea
She is no longer here
but I see her every night.   
I remember how she smiled
and gazed at me with her loving eyes.

Do you love me? she asks. 
My eyes search for her 
in the abyss of night. 
It feels like torture 
to be apart, I reply. 
God was not fair 
when he took her away. 
She was my sky 
but now it's just me
...a lone star. 

Why would He let her go? 
Was He even listening
when she cried? 
Now I yearn to see her every night,
kissing her: Baby, good night.

Do you miss me? she asks again. 
I cry, lying awake
in the bed we shared.

Thinking of her,
when she said, 
you will always be there for me.   
I want to hold on. 
I wipe away my tears
but this is more than
I can bear.

I am not trying to die. 
I just want to
be with her forever,
again.

Posted: December 9, 2019

Mentor: Zeina Azzam


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