The gloomy skies tells chronicles of my brother whose amazing smiles & dimples were swallowed by dust. In the gleaming rays of the moonlit sky, a replay of his g̶e̶n̶t̶l̶e̶ 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 steps is revealed in the timeless hours of the night. How his smiles surrendered to horror and fear and how -boom!- his handsome features were sacrilege by the ugly hands of eternal p̶e̶a̶c̶e̶ 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁.

That night I realized our favorite horror movies were not even as terrific as the reality we now live in. That the favorite sounds we used to scream while panting and running around during days that now seem like they never existed, the sounds of guns and blasting bombs, I now realize even they can kill...

This is how I wake every morning not even knowing how I slept.
The tales of my pillow I know not about for I have none. My home, now a forgotten piece in our land of flowing dust. If I say the word peace, it definitely means death to my people. Every seconds I change my bed, from the streets here to the one over there... Don't blame me, it's a matter of seconds before you know if you'll still make it till tomorrow.

I can remember vividly the day my sister's beloved dress became her first attire after she found p̶e̶a̶c̶e̶ 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. Oh, how I fail to remember the day our tumultuous relief paraded and shuddered into everlasting aches. I remember vividly, how father's pieces kissed almost every nook and cranny of our b̶e̶l̶o̶v̶e̶d̶ 𝗐𝖺𝗋-𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗇 lands.

How he blew like sparkles from fireworks and how his body shattered to the wills of everlasting despair, a bomb was all it took to take down his stiff knees and shred his toes and fingers one by one. The knees that would never fall or kneel nor bow to the enemy's tune. The abode of ruins, a title, and initials our lands now bear.

I am, now, a remnant of the pieces and dust my family had become. A boy who bears feelings that ravage disaster. The one that bears scars that even the gloominess and darkness of the night can never conceal or hide. A feeling that competes with the shells of the bullets as the soul awaits its last hours.
Yet, deep down, beneath the ankles that bear the chain, within the lens that floods the tears, in the veins of the arms and every beat that reminds that I am alive, a hope that rekindles like an ember from the ashes remains jagged, wild yet couth; it tells my mind this single line every day, "I wish to find peace in a soul that lives, and if not then I wish to die at least in 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾 d̶e̶a̶t̶h̶ "


© Hujjah Saad✍️


#prayforpalestine
#freedomforpalestine
#palestinewillbefree
© hujjah