I dream of hills where olive branches sway,
And scent of jasmine greets the break of day.

I see the courtyard where I used to run,
Beneath the ancient fig that kissed the sun.

The wind still whispers names I used to know,
Soft echoes from a stream’s eternal flow.

Yet here I wander, exiled and alone,
A stranger bound by dust and weary stone.

Each star recalls a lantern from our street,
Where laughter bloomed and neighbors used to meet.

The sky was once a dome of tender light,
Before the smoke erased the blue from sight.

I taste the bread my mother used to bake,
And hear her prayers at dawn before I wake.

Though oceans stretch between my heart and land,
I feel its pulse beneath the foreign sand.

The breeze that cools my brow is not the same;
It hums no tales and whispers not my name.

Yet in my soul, its rivers never dry,
Its valleys green beneath a brighter sky.

I’ll cross the storms, no matter how they roar,
To walk its fields and feel its earth once more.

No tyrant’s hand can sever root from tree;
My blood’s the proof that soil belongs to me.

Though walls divide and borders twist and bend,
This longing burns and will not find an end.

For home’s a hymn the exiled hearts recite,
A song of dawn against the endless night.

And one day soon, with lifted hands I’ll roam,
And kiss the soil of my eternal home.

When hearts unite, no storm can make them fall,
Their love becomes a fortress over all.

With mercy’s hand, they soothe the wounded soul,
And weave the threads of peace to make it whole.

No hate survives where kindness plants its seed,
For love will bloom and answer every need.

A single smile can melt a bitter night,
And turn the tears of sorrow into light.

Forgiveness flows like rivers to the sea,
It washes pain and sets the spirit free.

The hands that lift the weak are crowned with grace,
They build a world where none are out of place.

A neighbor’s cry becomes a sacred call,
For every heart is bound to care for all.

Through patience, wounds of anger fade away,
And broken bonds find healing day by day.

No wall can rise where unity is strong,
Together, hearts compose a noble song.

The stranger’s face becomes a brother’s face,
When every heart is filled with soft embrace.

The road is hard, but hope will guide our feet,
And hand in hand, the storms we shall defeat.

The threads of love shall weave a robe of peace,
And guard the earth till all our struggles cease.

So let our hearts, like lanterns in the night,
Dispel the dark and spread their gentle light.

For when we stand as one, with hearts aligned,
No force can break the fortress of mankind.

In Gaza’s dust, where dreams are starved and torn,
The children dig for crumbs the world has sworn.

No grain of wheat, no olive branch remains,
Just broken backs and bags of ghostly grains.

Their hands are pale, yet burn with silent might,
While hope turns ash beneath the vulture’s flight.

Each sack they fill is filled with grief and sand,
A war-born harvest on a haunted land.

The smoke of bread becomes their daily breath,
Each bite a battle at the edge of death.

Mothers with arms like branches stripped of fruit
Rock babes to sleep with silence as their lute.

Where once the jasmine climbed and minarets sang,
Now rubble speaks, and hunger’s hammers clang.

Yet still they kneel to scoop what life they can,
Defying siege with dignity and plan.

What state allows a child to beg for wheat?
What soul stays mute as vultures circle meat?

But Gaza, draped in dust and ancient grace,
Still plants its prayers in that forsaken place.

For though the world may look and turn away,
Their roots of hope will bloom some brighter day.

Beneath the crescent moon and olive tree,
He stands—a prince of dusk, wild-hearted, free.

With eyes like coals that burned through dusk and doubt,
He knew my silence, sensed what grief's about.

A shepherd not of flocks but dreams and fears,
He licked the salt of both my joys and tears.

His bark was thunder, yet his soul was balm—
He'd chase the wind, then sleep with nature's calm.

No marble gate could guard me half as well
As Rex’s watchful stride and warm farewell.

He'd leap through dawn like firelight off the shore,
Each morning's vow more loyal than before.

When shadows came, he did not bark or flee—
He simply stood, a storm beside my knee.

And if the world grew dark or hearts grew dim,
The light I lost would find its way through him.

Now when I walk, the leash feels ghostly bare,
Yet in the breeze, I still can scent his care.

He was no beast, but breath with fur and flame—
A soul who came, who stayed, and earned his name.

At break of dawn, they rose with dreams so small,
To earn a wage, to help their homes stand tall.

For just some pounds, they walked the dusty way,
To work in fields through labor's bitter day.

But death came swift, like thunder from the skies,
And snatched away nineteen with tearless eyes.

Mothers had waited, hearts so full of grace,
But news came home with horror on its face.

Fathers collapsed on earth with broken pride,
As if the ground itself for them had died.

Who bears the blame? A voice too high to hear—
He sits above, untouched by pain or fear.

Two hundred thousand for the dead, they say—
But can this gold bring back a breath, a day?

Will coins be wrapped within her funeral sheet,
To warm her bones beneath the winding street?

Will money dry the mother’s endless tears,
Or mend a father crushed by haunted years?

A girl once lit her house with joy and song,
Now silence rules where laughter lived so long.

I thought: what if that girl had been my own?
My body shook, my soul gave out a moan.

Why don’t such things strike warfields drenched in flame?
But come to homes that bear God’s holy name?

The roads are paved, but laws lie deep asleep,
No watch, no guard, just chaos in the sweep.

O fate unseen! Have mercy on the weak,
Who seek no feast—just sleep and bread they seek.

O grieving mother, let your sorrow flow,
And lift your hands to God who sees your woe.

This year I lost the closest heart to mine,
My mother, love so pure, a light divine.

She held my hand when all the world was wide,
And in her love I’d safely run and hide.

At five, while siblings went to school each day,
With her I laughed and helped her clear the tray.

We sipped our tea and watched the camel pass,
He'd nod to me through panes of morning glass.

I’d climb the couch to wave and call his name,
But fate, that day, had played a cruel game.

I lost my balance—down I fell so fast,
And hit the ground; I thought that breath my last.

The cries rose high; old women screamed in fear,
My mother rushed and held her baby near.

They told her, “No, he’s gone, don’t try to fight,”
But she refused and said, “My son’s in light!”

She found a truck, the only one around,
And drove me fast across the dusty ground.

The doctors stared—they said, “He should be dead,”
But I came back, because of what she said.

She gave me life, then saved it one more time,
And for that gift, I write this humble rhyme.

If not for her, I wouldn’t be alive,
Her faith in me still helps my soul survive.

My mother, now a star above,
Her gentle spirit fills me with love.

She gave me life, her tender care,
Her whispered prayers are everywhere.

In every step, I feel her near,
Her voice, a whisper I still hear.

Through all the storms, she kept me warm,
Her love, my shelter from all harm.

Before I speak, she knew my pain,
Her heart, a balm that healed the strain.

Her love, a flame that never dies,
A light that still within me lies.

When darkness falls, she shines so bright,
Guiding me through the endless night.

Her memory, a soft embrace,
A precious mark I can't erase.

She held my heart with steady hands,
Her wisdom flowing like the sands.

Each day I live, I feel her there,
In every thought, in my head, I bear.

Her smile, a beacon through my strife,
Her love is the meaning of my life.

Her warmth will forever stay,
A light that never fades away.

Now she's gone, but not from me,
Her love lives on eternally.

Mom, you were my heart, my soul,
Without you, life’s never whole.

Farewell, my queen, my guiding star,
I will always love you wherever you are.