we are not numbers

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

The reverie

One night at my window, I waited for a door to open...
Gaza City lit up at night
Gaza City at night

 

One night at my window,
when the city lights came on,
Young hearts cheered.

Streets filled with lovers.
Other doors opened to night guests.
I waited for a door to open,
for a soul to meet mine.

But then the city grew silent.
The city lights turned off.
I felt only her absence.

 

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