Dedication

To my loved ones, to all Gazans and Palestinians who have endured the suffering of this war, and to those I have lost:
To my professor, who was like a second father to me, Dr. Refaat Alareer,
my childhood friend, Sama Atallah,
my college friend’s sister, Rama Shama’a,
my brother’s friend and our family friend, Haitham Abid Alwahid,
whom we do not know if he is alive or dead at the Al-Naqab Israeli Prison —
and countless others, I give this poem.
May Allah have mercy on you.
Please, rest in eternal peace.

Red lines and blue lines
Run to meet in the middle of the heart
To dance together and invite the heart to drum.
Drums, a rhythmic start, to wake up a life
For a son, a daughter, a mother, a father,
A grandma, a grandpa, a husband, or a wife.

With an invisible cloak,
And a bullet, a missile, an airstrike, a bomb, or a ricochet,
Death comes to snatch what he claims to be his own prey
Slowly slowly; as lungs claim for air in a losing plea,
In a court death is its judge, there is no decree.
The red and blue lines draw circles of fatal art,
Staining the land, tearing the loved ones apart.

For every life taken, tears are shed,
Burying the starry dreams of a friend,
Blooming stories of love have ripped,
And the glimmering in children’s eyes is dread.
Despite the Gazan genocide, hopes still persist.
Silent promises to the lost are unsaid
That the living are not surrendered, no, not yet,
And that one day Gaza will be rebuilt.

Their red lines and blue lines, staining the land,
Will always be part of it and give us a hand.