When the ceasefire finally
takes effect, I will walk…
No one will ask me
where I’m going —
Because
I don’t even
know myself.
Maybe I’ll wander
toward the edge of
the neighbourhood,
or to where my
farm once stood,
now burned
and gone.
Or to my old tent,
or to the ruins of
my home.
Maybe I’ll end up
standing at the door
of my friends room…
The friend who is
no longer here.
Or by my
shattered bed,
lying broken outside
in the rubble,
or near my burned
mattress, tossed aside
under the open sky.
Or beside the little trees
they uprooted
along with the soil.
I don’t know.
Truly, I don’t know.
All I know is…
I just want to reach a
quiet corner near the
wreckage,
somewhere no one
can hear me.
Somewhere
I can cry
for a long,
long time.
Maybe then,
just maybe,
I’ll feel a little
lighter.
Ein Gedicht von Jehad Al-Farra aus Gaza.
Gelesen von Geri
Jehad Al-Farra ist 23 Jahre alt und hat während des Völkermords seinen
Bachelor-Abschluss in Anglistik mit Auszeichnung abgeschlossen.
Instagram:
@jehadalfara
@joefarra2