Grief crept into me / seeping deep into my heart / into every corner of my being.

If it were not for the Nakba, / May 15 might be a sunny day.

I yearn for a past life / before the world turned dark.

I lost my loved ones / I lost my power, hope, dreams / and my last tears.

All I have left of my uncle is a memory of a wave and a smile.

Grief is a strong opponent.