GAZA

Nakba’s Cry, Hope’s Light

On fifteenth May, the echoes weep,

A land once whole, now torn so deep.

Families scattered, homes erased,

A sorrowed past, a loss embraced.
The olive trees in silence stand,

Their roots still clutch the broken land.

Tears like rivers carve the sand,

Where children’s laughter once had spanned.
The keys they hold, a promise keep,

Through years of exile, hearts still weep.

Yet in the night, a whispered dream,

Of love reborn in moonlight’s gleam.
A hope remains where ruin lay,

That dawn will bring a kinder day.

That hands once forced to wave goodbye,

Will build again, with heads held high.
For peace may bloom where sorrow grew,

And home return to those it knew.

A future safe, where children play,

Beneath the olive’s gentle sway.