By Nour El-Borno – Gaza
Moons shine through her eyes
As she walks past her house:
Here, she once laughed;
There, she once cried.
“I remember,” she whispers.
The dark hours that once took over
Are now gone in the past,
But so are the happy moments
She once had.
“What if it was all a dream?”
Faint words escape her mouth.
The flowers she gardened,
Sunned and watered
Lost in the winter of acid rain
When raids of autumn
Fell on her head:
Thorned petals destroying
Everything she held dear.
Her brother, five year old, was six nevermore;
Her sister, 20 days, was never one month old.
All she had, her father and her mother,
Were beyond her reach:
Only in dreams of long nights’ sleep.
“I remember,” she weeps.
Despite the joys and the laughs
Of the twenty years that had passed,
Something within her heart
Never forgot who she once was:
A daughter and a sister and much more
An owner of a house
That was now gone.
“I lived here,” she cried,
“My soul still lingers, though;
I lived here,” she gazed
And moved past her fresh wrinkles,
And moved past everything she is
And held on to what was stolen from her:
Her family, her home, her childhood
And a lot more.
– Nour El-Borno is a published poet and a graduate of English literature at the Islamic University of Gaza. She contributed this poem to PalestineChronicle.com.