Soaring above Gaza City,
Blue skies everywhere, everywhere.
Skies with no fences, no camps.
I see the prison.
I land on the roof and then find
My Father's tiny window. So tiny.
How can anyone live with so little sky?
I take him a piece of the blue.
Now he can live one more day.
I will be back tomorrow,
I tell him.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
Soaring above Gaza City,
Blue skies everywhere, everywhere.
Skies with no fences, no camps.
I see the prison.
I land on the roof and then find
My Father's tiny window. So tiny.
How can anyone live with so little sky?
I take him a piece of the blue.
Now he can live one more day.
I will be back tomorrow,
I tell him.
-A stone in my hand
