I used to think I could touch the stars,
Reach for the moon,
And slide down the rainbow,
Which beamed after a trickle of rain.
I used to touch the dewdrops at the break of day,
Listen to the birds pecking at my window,
Embrace the warmth of the sun
And the freedom in the air.
I used to read my favorite book on the roof until sunset,
Until the stars began their magnificent display.
I used to watch the shooting stars above;
My whole world seemed to exude love.
Then someone decided to steal it all away.
The moon no longer smiles back.
My stars ceased to sparkle.
My birds’ song turned blue.
The air became heavy,
Suffocating us with death’s stale smell.
A dark black cage engulfed my Gaza,
Turning it into a hole of misery.
The warplanes shelled,
The tanks fired,
There was no way out.
My heart throbs in helplessness,
With a vacuum nothing can fill,
Except the sound of my birds
Singing the song of freedom,
Trying to lift my downtrodden soul
And my heavy heart.
Originally published on We Are Not Numbers