It was Ramadan,
and the whole family gathered
on the ground waiting for Athan.
I feel, by saying waiting for Athan it sounds like a person which, I know it's not so perhaps concider changing to "on the ground awaiting Athan"
There were no appetizers,
only a main course- white rice,
although it actually looked black.
I would put the last line in brackets because it's a thought?
My father was a brown coat
and a brown hat,
hung on the wall to my left.
Earlier this morning, he was thrown
in prison by the Israeli authorities,
for daring to leave Gaza
without identification papers
to the West Bank.
This needs some changing?
For daring to leave Gaza to the west bank without papers...something like that I think?
My brother sat to the left of my mother,
a picture in a wooden frame,
young and beautiful,
and barred with a black band
on the upright corner.
My mother sat across me, * across from me*
her face wrinkled, and radiant,
she was smiling wide although
the airplanes were bombing
our neighborhood. She said I was
her only companion left in this house.
She said I should always stay strong.
As the Athan warbled through
our hollowed ceiling, my ears hummed,
my eyes sank in fiery light,
and for more than ten seconds,
I could feel nothing
except my mother's limbs,
flying across the room,
landing on top of the main course -
meatballs on white rice.
La Ilaha Illa Allah
Your ending was quite horrific but...I thing that's where you intended it to hit the reader...straight in the gut!