Write down!
I am an Arab
And my identity card number is fifty thousand
I have eight children
And the ninth will come after a summer
Will you be angry?

Write down!
I am an Arab
Employed with fellow workers at a quarry
I have eight children
I get them bread
Garments and books from the rocks...
I do not supplicate charity at your doors
Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber
So will you be angry?

Write down!
I am an Arab
I have a name without a title
Patient in a country
Where people are enraged
My roots
Were entrenched before the birth of time
And before the opening of the eras
Before the pines, and the olive trees
And before the grass grew

My father ... descends from the family of the plough
Not from a privileged class
And my grandfather ... was a farmer
Neither well-bred, nor well-born!
Teaches me the pride of the sun
Before teaching me how to read
And my house is like a watchman's hut
Made of branches and cane
Are you satisfied with my status?
I have a name without a title!

Write down!
I am an Arab
You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors
And the land which I cultivated
Along with my children
And you left nothing for us
Except for these rocks ...
So will the State take them
As it has been said?!

Therefore!
Write down on the top of the first page:
I do not hate people
Nor do I encroach
But if I become hungry
The usurper's flesh will be my food
Beware ...
Beware ...
Of my hunger
And my anger!

Oh Children of Gaza!
Our hearts bleed;

We see how
You are killed,
Skating down the street.

Oh Children of Gaza!

It’s unfair;

Your rights are not fulfilled,
But you possess a beauty and strength So rare.

Oh Children of Gaza!

Hold strong to Deen;

Say, Hasbunallah!
Allah is sufficient for us!
Worry not, trust that you are seen.

Oh Children of Gaza!

The day will dawn,
When justice will be served.
Those who have wronged you, Will suffer and mourn.

Oh Children of Gaza!

Your pain is not in vain.
Jannah awaits,
And for eternity,
there you will remain.

O beloved Palestine
We won’t let you go
When will the bloodshed stop?
Only Allah knows
Israel is to blame
But they are lying
And always denying
Let the people return to the homes they’ve fled
And let their hearts be free of dread
Though we may not see it
These people are great
In the eyes of Allah, this is their fate
In Palestine’s heart, hope is still strong
Amongst the pain, love shines on
Empathy and peace beat in the hearts of all
With the hardship, their Imaan stays true
Because saving Al Aqsa is what they were chosen to do

I walk through the valley of death
a place once so full of life
I wondered if the cries of my daughter
weren't enough
for the oppressors to stop
and pull out the knife
I wondered
if killing millions wasn't fulfilling enough
for the Israelis to spare
my child
Helpless and broken
I stared at the sky
with my knees on the ground
with tears in my eye
surrounded by the soldiers
from all the sides
I smiled at the animals
in front of my eyes
who carried the flag of blue and white
for there was no remorse
their conscience had died.

I used to be a girl
who laughed at everything and was constantly being told
by my teachers to stop talking
I used to be brave
and whole
I looked in the mirror today
and realised that girl
Died
Along with the others
She is buried under the rubble
I am no longer brave
Or whole
I can no longer laugh
I can only keep re-seeing
The ripped torso of a girl
Who I used to call my best friend
They call me a victim
I am no longer a girl
I am just what Israel made me

How can I stand for a place I have never been?
Speak out for people I have never seen?

Is it that the heart chooses what to feel?

Is it humanity that binds us?

If I could I’d whisper secrets in the winds.

To every mother whose tears never cease.

To every father whose fears only grow.

To every child who dreams like me.

You are not alone.

Your dreams glisten and shine like
The moonlit sea.

Over dark and hellish skies, the sun
Shall always rise.

Oh, certainly Palestine freedom shall be
Your prize

As the sun starts to set
A child lies beneath an olive tree to rest
Her home destroyed
She was left dismayed
This pure child’s innocence, void
Monitoring a soldier approach
Her heart feels tense
Her body, dense
She tries to scream
Wishing this was just a dream

She closes her eyes in silent prayer
And there lies the figure right before her
With lifeless eyes
And a gun in his hand
Another life lost, more stolen land

Dear Palestine
The world knows there are hundreds like this everyday
And what does the world do
Where is humanitarian aid
When d human rights come into play
Its time to put a end to this
This war must bid farewell
For there will come a time
When Palestine
Will finally prevail
But for now,
You are in our prayers

Oh Allah bring their hearts together
Reform their mutual relationships
And give them victory over your enemies and their enemies

Like the people of Nuh
And the Muslims of Makkah
Will this nation too
Find refuge for their Taqwah?

Akin to the Sahaba
And their striving ways
Pray the Palestinians’ burning Iman
Will save them today

Ya Muqtadir, whose power is a universe
Compared to which the cruel are specks
And Whose mercy blooms like a flower Amidst the thorns of our world’s brutality
Ya Rahman, the denier of undeserved despair,
Ya Rauf, who loves his believers endlessly,
Spare the Muminoon of Palestine pain
Like you spared Bani Israel from vicious reign

Ya Darr, the one who brings pain to the immoral
Ya Mumit, who ends the evil
Make an example of the predators of the Mumin
An example the world won’t forget

Even though they were born with a devil
Every person is also born with an angel
Ya Hadi, who shows the light to the lost
Guide the wayward of this world

I wonder as I stare at the empty grey sky
If everyone lives under the same one
I wonder what living is like
When I don’t know I’ll exist the next moment
I asked my mother if humanity still existed
She said humans do
I wonder what I have done to deserve this,
Why people still don’t care?
I think about freedom
and if my people will ever get it?
I look at my scarred hands
And I wonder if my wounds will ever heal
I wonder what life is actually like
If people still have their families, while mine
is no more
I wonder when I would smile
after all the shed tears
They told me to cling onto hope
And I wonder when it would turn into reality
I wonder what will happen to my people
as the inhuman soldier presses the trigger...

As the sun starts to set
A child lies beneath an olive tree to rest
Her home destroyed
She was left dismayed
This pure child’s innocence, void
Monitoring a soldier approach
Her heart feels tense
Her body, dense
She tries to scream
Wishing this was just a dream
She closes her eyes in silent prayer
And there lies the figure right before her
With lifeless eyes
And a gun in his hand
Another life lost, more stolen land
Dear Palestine
The world knows there are hundreds like this everyday And what does the world
do
Where is humanitarian aid
When do human rights come into play
Its time to put a end to this
This war must bid farewell
For there will come a time
When Palestine
Will finally prevail
But for now,
You are in our prayers
Oh Allah bring their hearts together
Reform their mutual relationships
And give them victory over your enemies and their enemies

In the stillness of the night, where shadows weep,
Where the earth laments, in dreams buried deep,
The cries of the people slice through the dark,
Yearning for justice, a freedom’s spark.

From the ancient wisdom, the Prophet’s flame,
The tale of Suleman, a revered name,
He stood where silence was an endless strife,
Where nations faltered, losing life.

The camel, once pure, its sanctity betrayed,
A tale that shook the world, foundations swayed,
Those who saw the signs of tyranny near,
Yet in their silence, they bore the weight of fear.

"Raise your voices, or bear the cost,
Without justice, all is lost,
Palestine’s cry, a beacon so bright,
Guiding us through the darkest night."

When Gaza’s wail reaches our ears,
We cannot turn away, nor dismiss the tears,
Silence will no longer shield us from guilt,
It fuels the flames oppression built.

"Now speak with strength, with purpose clear,
For justice is born when voices are near,
Palestine calls us to rise, to stand,
To shield their rights with unwavering hand."

Let our hearts ignite with a steadfast fire,
For silence now will lead to mire,
In every deed, in every voice, we must show,
That justice and truth in our souls grow.

If we remain mute as oppression thrives,
We bear the weight of countless lives,
Raise your voices, let justice reign,
In the face of darkness, break every chain.

"In history’s echo, our actions speak loud,
The silent falter, the brave stand proud,
Palestine’s call is our shared fight,
For justice, for freedom, we must unite."

A child in pain, with hope so small,
She tried her best to call and call.

An angel came with light so bright,
Turning darkness into daylight.

In that light, her fears took flight,
And rescuer calls lit up the night.

To warm the child, the angel stayed,
Until the rescuers found their way.

Beneath the rubble and the stone,
A child lay trapped and all alone.

Yet in his hand, his faith held tight,
A tasbih glowing through the night.

His whispered zikr, his softest voice,
It wasn't really his choice.

For days he did zikr through hardship and fear,
Until the rescuers drew near.

Through the rubble, they found him there,
Awaiting the right care with silent prayer.

Beneath the stone, a baby cried,
With broken bones, she really tried.

Her cries were small, but her strength was strong,
A glimmer of hope in her mother's song.

The rescuers heard her tiny sound,
And quickly dug into the ground.

Through shattered glass and broken dreams,
She suffered under cruel schemes.

Her tiny hands, her small eyes,
Made it hard to find her due to her size.

Though war had torn her family apart,
This child survived with a beating heart

In a land where the sun forgets to shine,
I open my eyes, but darkness is mine.
The cries of wars are the songs
that I hear, In Palestine, where
hope has disappeared.

My home is just a memory, a
fleeting ghost, Laughter’s
vanished, replaced by most
Terrifying echoes, constant and near—
A child’s heart is consumed by fear.

Bombs fall like endless tears from
the sky, My house turned to rubble,
no place to hide. Explosions are my
lullabies, sharp and loud, In every
blast, I feel my world shroud.

Mama and Baba are gone, their faces
I chase, Their loving arms lost in the
war-torn place. I wander through the
debris, feeling so lost, In this sea of
destruction, counting the cost.

There’s no home to return to, just empty,
cold streets, Where the nights are long and
the cold never retreats. I huddle alone
where shadows take flight, Dreaming of
warmth in the dead of the night.

My stomach is empty, hunger my only
friend, When food appears, it’s stained
with blood’s end. Each bite is a battle,
each meal is a tear,
In a world where even sustenance is a fear.

Pain is my constant companion now,
I've grown numb to the hurt, don't
ask me how. My body bears the scars
of countless strife, In this cruel world
that's stolen my life.

Once a child with dreams now
forced to see, A world where
innocence is lost to me.
I’ve aged in heart, my spirit’s been
cracked, In a blink, my youth
stripped and attacked.

In this land where hope has
turned to dust, I live in a
nightmare, broken and thrust.
Each day’s a struggle, each night a scar,
A child's heart beaten by a war’s cruel scar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem is written from the perspective of a Palestinian child living in Gaza.

As a blue and white flag falters through the wind
Your loved ones hold what’s left of you
In your shroud of crimson-stained thread.

Your bloody birth certificate
Hanging in a torn tent
Haunting them, taunting them,
Saying; “You have nothing left”.

On a tree rooted in your ancestral home
A small olive bud begins to grow
Bringing with it the undeniable fact
That their longing land will be returned
And their broken hearts will be cured.

So you can sleep soundly knowing very well
That your death grew resilience and hope;
An olive branch, a symbol of life reborn.

The bride in drapes of white,
Walks beneath man-made stars that light up the night

The gown of a thousand layers,
Its hems incinerated, a drown of prayers

His only love lost beneath those stones,
Perhaps he'll find an eye, or maybe a few bones

A symphony of rhythmic blows,
Who are you to complain of all your woes?

And yet he looks up to the stars, a peaceful night,
To thank the Lord who created what shines bright

And despite what transpires, through thick and thin
The righteous in the end surely do win

Do not despair, people of the green pitted tree
Your homeland is yours, forever was and will be.

When you open my ear, touch it gently.
my mother’s voice lingers somewhere inside.
Her voice is the echo that helps recover my equilibrium
when I feel dizzy during my attentiveness.

You may encounter songs in Arabic,
poems in English I recite to myself,
or a song I chant to the chirping birds in our backyard.
When you stitch the cut, don’t forget to put all these back in my ear.
Put them back in order as you would do with books on your shelf.

The drone’s buzzing sound,
The roar of an F-16,
The screams of bombs falling on houses,
On fields, and on bodies,
of rockets flying away—rid my small ear canal of them all.

Spray the perfume of your smiles on the incision.
Inject the song of life into my veins to wake me up.
Gently beat the drum so my mind may dance with yours,
my doctor, day and night.

In each room, dim the light's soft glow,
In the inner hallway, where shadows slow.
Away from windows, I find my retreat,
No haven of calm, in my mind worries compete.

Forget the stove, the scent of food is just a dream
A bottle of water, to cool the children's fears,
An embroidered handkerchief to wipe away their tears

Late grandparents' photos, in tender embrace,
Money and ID cards of the family whose lives have passed
A wedding invitation, memories time can't erase.
Tiny toys within a child's backpack stuffed
Nestled under my arm, a comforting weight

My pockets with treasure and purpose, filled,
Handful of soil in one, strawberry seeds in the other
I hold on tight to life's little joys, I hold on tight to sweet strong faith.
For the age on my last birthday might be the last of the years I have.

The wind whispers
A child awakens
Sobs shattering silence
Tattered robes stained with blood
Alone without solace, a burning heart

The wind rustles
A breath of hope
A wisp of comfort
The innocent child rises

The wind howls
“You are strong, resilient”
“A nation unbroken”
“A land destined for freedom”

The wind rages
Healing wounds
Drying tears
Faith unyielding
An angel emerges, aiding

The wind roars, screeching
“Summon your people”
Through ruins and ravaging fires
The call ignites

Ashes blossom into green
Warriors mounting white steeds
Bright stars in the black night
The Palestinians stand tall against the red horizon