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Her prayers are whispered away
As sleep never stays
Under the moonlit stars
She leaves hope ajar
Eyes melting with furious tears
She wanted to collect for water … in fear
She’d have none for the next day
Go to the south—get out—they’d say
As she runs through debris and fray
Her next meal is dropped
Into the bottom of the ocean
Her courage as loud as Yunus’s devotion
They want her to drown lest she swim away
She misses the Ramadan of food stacked upon trays
Flatbreads and olives and chicken roast
Freedom to Philistine, she’d make a toast
But there was no one on the other side of the table
To read her stories and fables
Only 10 years of age and death seeming close
The prideful soldiers would often boast
Of how many lives like her mother’s they’d taken
But her faith could never be shaken
Her childhood should’ve been playing with dolls
And growing tall
Not saving herself from falls
Her little feet racing against bombs
Holding her heart to stay calm
They want her to remain small
For they are afraid Palestine will free us all
But living is her insistence
So long live the resistance
Until the end of time
Long live Palestine. 
