WAR Poem: My Things, by Hania Qutub

In between the Gaza tents
pitched by refugees many times over
the children and grandchildren of refugees
trying to survive their hunger and thirst
have a thrift store
that carries my belongings

take my things
and love them

my favorite blue shirt
a pair of dusty shoes
my son’s crumpled poetry book
a plastic doll with no arm
they were dug up from the rubble of my home
As we lay crushed under the marble slab
from our kitchen counter
I was cooking a meal for my children
when the Israeli drone entered our home through the window
Its glass blown out long ago
by the bombing.
It hovered over us, its tentacles loud and menacing
buzzing incessantly
before it dropped its bomb
and flew away.

Author: poetryfest

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