Basman Aldirawi

In The Poem,

I give the hospital legs and wheels,

but would that be enough for it to

survive the faster missiles? 

‍

I sculpt arms for my home, 

but would it fold the walls 

before the memories get amputated? 

‍

I draw the sea a mouth, 

but would it swallow Gaza, 

keep her inside until the genocide is over? 

‍

I sew the body of a young girl 

That was split in half, giving her body life. 

But would death stop its constant revisiting? 

Would death be like a gentle puff of air? 

‍

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