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