We, the living dead,
Await our turn on life’s stage,
As passersby along the road,
With a weary, heavy memory,
Our backs are slightly bent,
Fatigued,
We carry on our shoulders farewell baggage,
With an identification card in hand,
To ensure that no one in the penultimate scene
Forgets us.
Yet, at this moment,
We act so luxuriously.
We all indulge in life,
In a perfectly strange way,
Harboring modest dreams,
Asking for a piece of bread,
A sip of clean water,
A sufficient portion of peaceful sleep,
A night bathed in moonlight,
Or even, at last…
A farewell hug,
A shy smile,
A warm shoulder,
A fragrant sprig of basil,
Or a reproachful word,
Or a thank you without justification,
For, in the end…
The speech is eloquent,
Regardless of its content.

Ghada Hania is a researcher and translator based in Gaza.

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• Operation Al-Aqsa Flood

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