In my dreams, I always have a chance
I am a free bird,
stretching my wings to hug the white clouds.
No weight of headlines or grief.
In my dreams,
I sing with a voice that echoes beyond all walls,
build a home in the sky,
and follow every thought like a child chasing butterflies—
because time,
time is mine.
But war does not knock.
It tears the door from its hinges.
A sudden bombardment wakes me,
and I pity me.
I grudge the moment
I bid farewell to my dream.
Why must morning always betray me?
O my dream, how I love you.
O my dream, how I wish to live you,
not just in the dark,
but in the day.
You are my haven,
the only home no one can destroy.
I wish I could stay.
I wish you could stay.
Is it wrong to want sleep more than morning?
To lament the dream more than the life?
Lubna Ahmad Abu Dahrouj
Lubna Ahmad Abu Dahrouj is a student of the late Dr. Refaat Alareer. She says, “I believe in the power of writing, and I find solace in it during this genocide. Writing serves as both a testimony and a powerful form of resistance. I write for the sake of my people—the people of Gaza. I love my people deeply, and so it is my duty to write.”
Cover image of clouds by Peggychoucair from Pixabay
A really beautiful and sad poem. Everyone I’ve worked with who had Dr Refaat Alareer as a teacher is a wonderful writer, unpretentious, clear and writing from the heart. He would be so proud of you all. But though it makes for powerful writing, I really wish for your sakes that you had less tragic raw material. One day I hope to see Gazan writers able to rejoice in simple everyday things that the rest of us take for granted. With love and admiration.