Friday, July 18, 2014

The Beach...

All of my friends are wearing shorts. So I roll up my jeans and tuck the hem of my shirt inside.
Not even my clothes or my mom’s warnings to keep them neat and clean are going to stop me from having fun!

We race down to the beach. I make it first. I stand tall in front of all the other boys and give them a proud look. I had always been the fastest among them.

Taha takes a handful of sand and throws it on my face. Samir steps on my foot and I fall down. We all laugh.
Then we chase each other and start splashing water
Life to us is very simple. We enjoy little things and we are always happy.

After a while, we look up the sky and see something flying. We don’t live near an airport and I have never seen a plane this close. Then it comes closer and the sound becomes deafening.
We all start running. Our feet don’t touch the ground.
I live in Gaza so this means one thing.
I don’t look back. I run. We hide in a container. And I hear a missile launched.

I see the beach and my grandfather walking out of the water towards me. His skin is still wounded and his shirt has holes in it. But he is no longer bleeding. He is still dressed in the same clothes he wore the night I last saw him. A big smile decorates his face.
He touches my cheek. I go into his embrace and walk towards the depth of the sea.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014


She wasn’t sure
he would move out
of her being,
in which he made a home.

She wasn’t certain
if the marks he'd left
would wash off
from her soul.

She didn’t know
who she became
or if ever,
she’d be whole.

Yet, a tree,
without a main branch,
with time,
would still have grown.