...but I was never a dreamer
until you puffed into me...

Tonight, like many ordinary Gaza nights,
there are wounded babies...

I couldn't see the beauty
in our worn out portrait...

See calm in me
through glass reflections...

On some mornings I stole birds.
I opened my eyes...

don't talk
don't scratch the surface...

Cool breeze wheel and dive
making it through dawn again...

There rose a sun,
but I'm doomed...

Thinking of you..
I breathe on illusion...

If not about the ruins
that linger at the surface...

From the recurring sun
that shuns my distress...

And I love the moments when I think of you
for there are no moments that feels as true...