Artist: Shadi Haddadin, Flyers for Falastin

After a year, the body of Santa is
still under the rubble along with
his bag of gifts and the list of names
of the children: the good ones
and the bad ones.

The video of a mother sitting
on what is left of her house
and digging with bare hands
for the remains of her daughter
still haunts Mrs. Claus at night.

She can’t stop imagining the last moment
of Santa with the children,
bones out of the skin,
covered with blood, dust and stones.
She wants the remains of Santa.

Every time Mrs. Claus closes her eyes,
grief clenches her heart
like an apartheid wall
through an occupied city.

She still sends a daily email
to the American Administration office,
asking for an independent investigation.
Who killed Santa? No reply.

She still leans on her photo album,
even though guilt consumes her heart—
she remembers all the wives and mothers
whose photo albums did not survive.

A notification interrupts her,
while she is looking through her album
at the photos of Santa—
at Mohammed holding his kite,
wishing to travel—
at Ahmed holding his lamp,
wishing for a full day of electricity
on Christmas Eve, 2022.

Dear Mrs. Claus,
We hope our email finds you well.
Don’t worry, this is to confirm again.
We reached out to the spokesman of the IDF.
The IDF has investigated the killing of Santa.
We will keep you updated
if new information becomes available.

She laughs out loud.

See Basman’s previous Santa poems, The body of Santa (2024) and Santa was killed in Gaza (2023).