Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza

by Mosab Abu Toha

And when we die, our bones will continue to grow, to reach and intertwine with the roots of the olive and orange trees, to bathe in the sweet Yaffa sea. One day, we will be born again when you’re not there. Because this land knows us. She is our mother. When we die, we’re just resting in her womb until the darkness is cleared.

I had seven siblings at the time.

When someone from the life insurance company calls and pronounces my name in English, I see the angel of death in the mirror, with eyes that watch me crumbling onto this foreign ground.