The main street whitened.

It’s snowing outside,

in this moonless evening.

Squirrels look out their burrows.

Owls try to find shelters on top of the high leafless trees.




Across the Street, walks a homeless boy,

trembling...

trying to cover himself with his arms.

No family, no house, no toy.

Walking barefoot into suburbs,

is his thing.

Nothing left but his memories.

Nothing left but his nightmares.

Nothing left but his fear.




He walks on the wet asphalt,

and the cold mud.




He looks into windows,

finding a different world;

babies cradled,

others put to sleep,

kids fed,

while playing together,

behind the closed doors,

happily, around their parents,

and around the dining set.

The smells,

of winter dishes spread.

Inciting his appetite.







He lost his family,

Because of, either, devastating wars,

or unfair starvation,

either after reaching the shore,

or before asking for immigration.




Mohammed Arafat

27-12-2019

It’s dimmed outside.
Sun is leaving us for so long.
Heavy Clouds approach.
Skies cry dew at the dawn.
and rain at the twilight.

Trees lose their green leaves day after day,
just like a child losing thier family.
No more green or yellow leaves on trees.
Birds halt building nests,
as they travel with the sun,
taking their chicks with them,
to look for new home, new food.

Lovers see each other not much,
as parks closed and roses wilt.
Harbors blocked and waves get high.
Golden shores wetted, green hills yellowed.
No places for love.
They decide to travel with the sun.
Everything beautiful travels with the sun.
Everything beautiful travels with the sun.



Mohammed Arafat

05-12-2019

I open the window at midnight,
and stand by it,
to beautify my eyes,
looking at Gaza city.

The sky is clear.
The moon is crescent.
It’s breezing from the sea.
The tops of the palm trees dancing,
under the lights of the flying stars,
and the falling meteors and comets.
I can smell the oil of the olive trees in the East.
I can taste the citrus fruits of the West while far.
It seems this city won the satisfaction of God.

I am watching the light go on and off,
in the small buildings,
across the street.
Some families get lights.
Others get darkness while there is light.

I try to look through the windows,
but it’s not easy.
Some of them are opaque though.

In one of the buildings lives a big family,
spending the night waiting for the morning,
and its unexpected surprises.
In another building lives a young man,
chatting with his fiancée,
about their wedding delayed for five years.

Three orphans live in a makeshift home, made of tin plates.
Weeping, they can’t believe they lost their parents just recently.
Beside their home, widowed woman resides.
She thinks she could bring her husband back.

On the second floor, there is a girl,
waiting for her lover to come.
He promised to marry her years ago,
but he turned up missing while trying to migrate.
Her mother awaits her son,
to come back from the café,
where he hookahs and smokes for hours.

In another building stays four graduates,
sitting in front of big screens,
applying for jobs,
Knowing they won’t get any.

On top of them, lives an artist,
criticizing his careless government,
and cursing the occupation on social media,
waiting to be arrested and humiliated soon.
In Gaza, live humans.

Mohammed S Arafat
December 2nd, 2019

It’s dimmed outside.
Birds come back to nets with empty corps,
but with a lot of warmth and compassion.
Their hatchlings and fledglings will sleep hungry tonight.
I can hear their birdsongs though.
Strong wind blows,
across the yard,
and all around the cosy nests.
High deciduous trees rustle,
shuddering me.
Withered dry leaves fall,
reminding me of those humans falling every day,
without saying goodbye to their final autumn,
in my homeland,
in Palestine.

Mohammed Arafat
Nobember 20th, 2019

Rain is over,
but I see raindrops all over the window,
while I am wrapped with three blankets,
and the fourth folded beside me.
It’s getting colder,
and I am getting warmer.
From the window,
I see neighbors having a campfire,
in their backyard,
With their kids around them.
I am warm, they are warm,
but thousands out there are not.
I am thinking of them all…
I am thinking of them all…

--I am Let Go--




“Goodbye, my mom…”
I kiss her hands and leave,
the house of my parents,
in my village, chained…
chained with high walls,
electric siege,
armed soldiers,
and hate.

While walking, with a bag full of food in my right hand,
and my green Palestinian ID in my left,
I am remembering my goodbye to my mom.
I didn’t say, “See you soon, mom!”
but goodbye.
I don’t know why!

The street is dark,
with the moon lurking behind the clouds.
It’s cold in November.
My cold hands shaking.
Neither the bag nor the ID helps warming them up.

I approach the high wall and the border we always talk about,
in our winter meetings around campfires.
It’s full of military watchtowers,
with welded wire fence,
and snipers pointing their guns at me.

My ID is ready in my hand to show,
and my bag is open for them to be searched.
The inspection is over, and I am let go.
They laugh at me while I walk.

No safety yet.
About to cross the border,
I again remember my goodbye to my mom.

Remembering stops.
My back feels cold.
It’s frozen.
It’s warm.
It hurts.
I am screaming.
I am shot by the soldiers checked my bag and my ID,
by the soldiers who let me go.

Mohammed Arafat
November 2nd, 2019

Green leaves wilt,
and turn yellow and orange,
filling the ground of my parents’ backyard,
with brown color.
No swinging, no tree climbings, no frolicking,
but warmth in sobs with my family.
We bring up our old memories,
the sweet and the bitter,
the memories of every autumn,
I lived in my old town in Gaza.

With love, we flip them like reading a dusty book,
in front of the campfire.
while yellow and orange leaves still fall outside,
filling the ground with brown color.

It’s windy outside and cold.
Reptiles get into their burrows.
Birds, in a hurry, fly to their nests,
full of either babies or eggs about to hatch,
and we are still remembering our old memories.
We fall asleep in front of fire in autumn,
dreaming...

Mohammed S Arafat
October 30th, 2019