I provide some political analysis for my children at home
I tell them that the war is in its last breath
I am guided by my mother’s reassurances
I ask my mother also when the war will end
This is the way we are in Gaza
We inherit safety
I play the role of the baker
Last time, my wife refused to let me bake again
For I burned three loaves of bread
I swore a hundred times that the problem was not me
It was the oven
She did not believe me
In the end, she trusted me to take the lead in the laundry issue
I secretly bring food for the cats
Which gather like a group of wolves in front of the house
One steals some glances
The other, which does not understand Arabic tear the bulging bags
While the smallest one mews and weeps
I steal a little of our food for them
So that we can share our starvation
I drink cold tea every day
My elderly friend tells me that he has just lifted it up from the fire
He tells me I arrived on time
But I do not see any fire around
The gurgling of the tea in the glass is pleasant
But no steam is coming up from it
It tastes like iced juice
The old woman, who is my mother’s friend, doesn’t lie usually
But she forgets the time sometimes
She does not even remember my name sometimes
I wipe my father’s shoes in the afternoon
There is some dust around his feet in the cemetery
I do that with my eyelashes
In order that his shoes look shiny
When he was buried, he looked at me
As if he was about to speak
I understood he needed to feel that we can manage after he is gone
I am still telling him that the war is in rage
I know that will make him sad
But I cannot lie to him
Lying will make him more sad
I count my children every night
My son Muhammad sleeps with his face covered
I lift the blanket away from his face
To make sure my counting is accurate
Two days ago, a bird fell from its nest
Its mother almost killed herself out of grief
Her cries reached Heaven
It was real human cries
I cannot imagine how the mothers in Gaza endure all this
And when they cry
They are blamed for doing it
I sleep with swollen feet
I wake up in the morning to begin the cycle again
As if trapped in the endless turning of a waterwheel
Hasan Qatrawi
26/04/2025
