The Rain in Gaza

It rains death in Gaza,

Wetting the streets with the blood of the drowning.

It rains so often in Gaza,
That there is even forecast and a warning shower;
A promise of heavy weather.
Yet too often, five minutes is too short a time to grab an umbrella,
And as with all forecasts, you cannot completely predict the rain.

It has rained for years in Gaza,
Sometimes it drizzles, sometimes it pours,
But it never fully halts. It rains so much that
Its drenched denizens raise their arms and cry out:
“When will the rain stop?!”
But their wet, weary voices are barely heard over
The thunderous drums of war.

“Will the rain stop today?” Asks a child in Gaza.
And the reply comes from birds with metal wings
Whose melodies do not delight the ears, but instead threaten
With the promise of a revisiting storm.
The mother sighs “Be patient, dear” as she wipes the child’s tears,
Not noticing the two drops of rain
That stream down her own face.

For she knows.
She knows that it will always rain in Gaza.

As long as Gaza tries to stand in the hurricane,
It will rain.
As long as Gaza gasps for air and refuses to drown,
It will rain.
As long as Gaza’s heart beats despite the blood loss,
It will rain.
And rain.
And rain.

I pray as I watch that rain.
I plead and beg and pray for a time when
Men can say: “It used to rain in Gaza”,

“But it doesn’t any more”.

 

————-

By Yousef Eltuhamy, 2nd year studying Medicine.

scary-look

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