for Dr. Refaat Alareer
Sept. 3, 1979 – Dec. 6, 2023

So many of us still
hold our phones, read
your poems — not
losing hope, but

we’re tired of sleeping
in fear, tired
of being displaced,
living in tents,

haunted by horrors
that linger in our minds.
A missile pierced the silence,
burning all the tents —

including you. I have
not forgotten. Nights
become nightmares, children
cry from the cold,

their laughter, once bright,
now a distant echo.
We yearn to return,
free from fear. When

will these bloody nights end?
When will this tragedy stop?
When will our normal lives return,
and our distant dreams come true?

We keep asking, “Will this pass?”
And remember how you
used to say, “It shall pass…
I keep hoping it shall pass…”

Still, we wait for the day
peace will dawn,
and a new chapter
open its bleary eyes.