Poetry About Gaza

A brass key waits in a drawer beside the family papers. The sea is near, though checkpoints divide the road. Bread rises while distant windows shake. A mother counts her children twice before sleeping. Names are not numbers, and homes are more than walls. Morning deserves to arrive without fear for everyone.

The sea is near, though checkpoints divide the road. Ordinary life becomes sacred when safety is denied. A mother counts her children twice before sleeping. Even gaza keeps more than one meaning in view. Dignity survives in the hands that keep making bread.

A brass key waits in a drawer beside the family papers. Time carries the image beyond its first appearance. Bread rises while distant windows shake. Names are not numbers, and homes are more than walls. Dignity survives in the hands that keep making bread. Morning deserves to arrive without fear for everyone.