The Future of Gaza
By Basman Eldirawi
While I write this poem,
the future of Gaza lies in a coma
in Al Aqsa hospital’s ICU
after shrapnel flew into his neck.
The future of Gaza is sitting in Al Mawasi
watching the sunset at the door to his tent.
He closes his eyes for a moment,
imagining that he is back in his old room,
his toys all around him.
He feels the air drive deep into his lungs
After a nearby explosion.
The future of Gaza stops for a moment
to check her bare feet.
The feet have mixed with her blood and the dust of long roads.
The feet that miss their old shoes.
She remembers walking to school wearing new shoes.
Tears fall from her eyes
And there is a nearby explosion.
The future of Gaza lays in her bed
with her new twins.
She cradles them beside her,
smells their fresh newborn skin.
Two birds appear out of nowhere and perch at her window, singing
despite the buzz of drones,
waking the hope that her twins will grow.
And a nearby explosion happens.
The future of Gaza stares at the beach:
above him are only drones, warplanes, and black sky.
An echo of an old memory with friends, running
into the water, laughing and singing, resisting the roar of warplanes
inside his ear.
A nearby explosion happens.
The future of Gaza crosses her legs
on the sand at a corner near the displacement camp.
She is breathing heavily after a long day of documenting
her home, her people, her own death.
The weight of the PRESS vest lays heavy on her chest.
Her hand extends to the old photos of her old life,
to the memory of her camera.
A nearby explosion happens.
The future of Gaza drives the ambulance so fast
after news of a massacre in Deir Al Balah.
He can’t stop thinking of his children.
He can’t erase the image inside his head
that he will return and find them waiting for him by the door.
A nearby explosion happens.
The future of Gaza is every boy
is every girl
is every new mother.
is every newborn baby.
is every young man.
is every journalist.
is every medic.
is every dream.
Before a nearby explosion happens.
Basman Eldirawi (also published as Basman Derawi) is a physiotherapist and a graduate of Al-Azhar University in Gaza in 2010. Inspired by an interest in music, movies, and people with special needs, he contributes dozens of stories to the online platform We Are Not Numbers.
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