By Ali Altawil, M.D.
There was a small homeland,
gazing out over the sea
as if guarding a dream,
Its name was Gaza…
Not just a city,
but the heartbeat of a soul
that never knew surrender,
A flower born of ashes,
That taught us how to love life,
Even as the shadow of death
hovered in its sky each evening.
Gaza…
Her simplicity shone brighter than any grandeur,
And her people wove love from pain,
They smiled through wounds,
And dreamed,
for dreaming ran in their veins like faith and blood.
Gaza…
She loved life…
If not for herself,
Then for her children,
Those who knew nothing but how to adore her,
For she was their mother, their child, their friend,
The story we tell when time grows heavy,
And we need a lesson in resilience.
Gaza…
The melody of childhood,
The elegance of anthem,
The voice of hope when darkness strangles,
The memory of those who passed, and those who wait,
She was a symbol of life…
But hands of darkness
Reached in and extinguished her lantern,
Thinking the light could die,
Forgetting that in Gaza’s heart,
There lives a sun… that never fades.
Ali Altawil, M.D. is a general practitioner and writer bearing witness to and shedding light on the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, capturing lived realities with a poetic voice. He works at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in the heart of Gaza, where he and his family endure the same struggles as the people he serves. Through his profession and his words, he resists oppression and holds on to the hope of a better tomorrow. If you’d like to support his work, visit his profile on X and his fundraising page on Chuffed.
