I Am Here, Why Am I Not There

Tell the world—there is a place where children sleepto the lullaby of drones,where dawn breaks not with birdsong,but with sirens and silencetoo heavy for sky. Tell the world—of olive trees burnt before they could bear fruit,of kites that once danced over rooftopsnow...

Once they were hunted, once they bled,once they counted their own dead.Once they cried to deafened ears,pleading, drowning in their fears. They swore that never would returnthe camps, the smoke, the cities burned.They carved their sorrow into stone,so history would...

Beni Khiar is where the landleans into the sea like a lover—hips of olive hills pressedto the breathless blue,whispers of jasmine tangledin the tide’s curls. She offers her fruit with sun-warmed hands,dates soft as childhood,figs that taste like first kisses,while the...

The sky is not the sky in Gaza—it is a hand that drops fire,a shadow that swallows the sun. The night is not the night in Gaza—it is sirens and silence,a mother whispering names of the lost. The streets are not streets in Gaza—they are graves waiting to be...

They draw and redraw maps with blood,Carving borders where rivers once ran free,Splitting tongues, sundering names,Turning soil sacred with memory to dust. Steel-tipped quills scratch on parchment,While swords etch deeper lines in flesh.They measure land in miles and...