Five men longing for the warmth of sunlight,
For a warm hug from their beloved ones,
For love—and being loved back for one night.
Five men fighting rusted hearts, with no guns.
Five, whose only weapon is their endless hope
clinging to a trembling olive bough.
Imagining a day of union—a dope
to numb the real, grim nightmare and the now.
Trapped in earth’s cracked womb so that we may live.
Flowers may fall only for the fruit to grow.
Is this the life they wanted to live and give?
Yet, fruits had to hold the fort in a row.
As long as you let flowers fade and wither,
the end will only turn bad—and bitter.
Five Men by Noor Kamal Mosa
Some flowers must fall to bloom. Image courtesy of Taqwa Ahmed Alwawi
August 8, 2026
