Among its green trees I was born.
On their branches my dad hung my swing.
From its fruit, I ate, and from its corn.
Walking in its fields, I used to sing…
I stopped hearing singing birds
but clashes and bullets.
I stopped seeing flying doves
but warplanes and buzzing drones.
Gaza was, then, besieged…
but strife, and fight.
I got scared, but my dad taught me this;
“Be a man, be a man, and never less!”
I knew Gaza was always like this,
yet it’s the city we will miss.
I love it, and will always do.
Its soil, its sea, its oil will be free.
Rebirthed it will be and new.
Neither for him nor her, it’s we.
Gaza is not what media tells.
It’s not about battles or fight.
It’s not about bombs or shells.
It’s about asking for my right!