“Love Letter to Palestine,” and other poems, Duha Hassan Al Shaqaqi.
Duha Hassan Al Shaqaqi is a 21-year-old Palestinian student from Gaza, passionate about education, writing, and helping others. Before the war, she was a top student and volunteered as a social worker and in a library, driven by her belief in the power of knowledge to change lives. Despite losing her home, school, and sense of safety, Duha continued her studies under the most difficult conditions and was accepted into two universities—one in the United States and another in Qatar. She dreams of continuing her education, rebuilding her life, and one day giving back to children who have endured what she has lived through. At present, she and her family are struggling simply to survive. A lifelong lover of poetry, Duha only found the courage to write during the war. For her, writing became a way to stay sane amid chaos—a means of channeling her stress and anger into words when silence was no longer an option.
Please give to her GoFundMe to help procure food and supplies during the IOF siege and occupation.
Miracle Poem
I’m a miracle.
No.
I’m an owl,
I stay awake at night,
I enjoy the quietness of an airstrike.
I’m a miracle.
No.
I’m an old nomad,
I love to evacuate every week or so—
to where?
To the unknown.
I’m a miracle.
No.
I’m a socialite,
I love being imprisoned with forty to fifty people,
use the same restroom,
have the same canned food.
I’m a miracle.
No.
I’m an ignorant,
by choice left school
to the school of animosity
to learn mercy from the unmerciful
to learn love from haters.
I’m a miracle.
No.
I’m a liar.
I’m a victim.
No, I’m a dreamer.
And because I’m Gazan
I am a miracle.
Lover Letter to Palestine
To My Toxic Lover, to my homeland,
to my Gaza, to my Jerusalem— all Jerusalem.
I will not say east nor west.
I will not tear you apart the way they did.
Here’s a love letter to my torture:
Dear Palestine, all Palestine,
from the river to the sea.
Your daughter I am, don’t be my stepmother.
Timid I am before you losses,
unyielding because of your strength.
Out of place without you,
devoid from all graces but you.
Your bloody days, your blown up hearts,
your overriding sensation
drew my moves, healed my wounds,
strengthened my soul.
Your vigorous sea waves,
resonating in my mind,
nostalgia all I feel
memories all I trace.
May I see your glory, freedom, and unity.
Freedom
I had a dream
I went back home
slept on my bed
felt warmth again.
I had a dream
I went to college,
nagged all day,
how hectic it was!
I had a dream
I wanted to live.
I had a dream
I had my favourite meal.
I had a dream
my ear forgot the war’s sounds
shouting, bombardment, mother’s sobs, and losses.
I had a dream
my eyes forgot the blood, the loss, the patience—
obligatory patience.
My nose forgot the smoke smell, the deaths, the corpses rotten.
My hands stopped shivering.
My body skipped what lived.
I had a dream
not panicking
not imagining death everywhere.
I had a dream.