When death comes to us, O Father,
Tell death that we do not fear.
Tell death that we are bare,
With nothing but a shroud to wear.
Tell death that we were born to live—
To live, then die,
To live with the memory that we will die,
To see death wherever we go,
In the streets, among the shattered walls,
In sleepless eyes,
In tiny hands that clutch the stones.
So how could we fear it?
Tell death that we do not fear.
If we are displaced, driven from our homes,
If tearing down the walls was not enough,
So they ripped apart our tents,
If bringing calamity upon our home was not enough,
If shedding blood and slaughtering our neighbors was not enough—
Tell them that we do not fear.
Tell them we are here,
To throw the stones,
To live, to die.
For we did not fear death—
It was death that feared us.
And if, one day, we are home again, O Father,
But you are not—
If my mother makes the soup you love,
And you do not come—
If all return, but you do not—
If your comrades call,
To tell us what they tell the widows,
To bring tidings meant for orphans,
Words that shatter hearts—
I will not answer…
I will not answer…
For you promised you would return, O Father,
And you did not.
And I kept your share of soup—
But, Father, the soup has gone cold…
They gave up waiting, yet I still waited.
They lost hope, yet I still waited.
I waited and waited—I never tired.
Father, I fear your departure—
Did you not know?
I fear that all I will have left of you is your shirt,
Your shadow, your lingering scent.
I hide my fear, my dread—
For I love life as you did.
And I fear death as you did.
But, Father, if you meet death,
Tell death that we do not fear.
Reem Sleem is an English literature student at Al-Azhar University. She is Palestinian from Gaza, displaced to Egypt. She is a writer of stories and articles. She has previously written for the websites of Electronic Intifada, the Institute of Palestine Studies, and We are Not Numbers.
Art by Manal Al Kahlout
Manal Al Kahlout is an artist living in Gaza
