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Three heart wrenching poems from Gaza

Man in dark jacket standing beside white tents in sandy area with palm trees and buildings in background under clear sky.

Writings that narrate — With Gaza’s population facing starvation, we are handing over our website to Yahya Alhamarna, a displaced poet and student in Gaza, who shares some of his recent poetry, and explains why writing is so important to him.

Gaza is starving right now. You’ve probably seen the images, which are horrifying and soul crushing. Despite Israel allowing foreign nations to airdrop aid, experts warn that the parachuted packages are nowhere near enough to feed its population, and leave vulnerable families without access to it.

Today, we are stepping back from our usual slate of publishing features, reportage and photo essays, to hand over our website to Yahya Alhamarna, a poet in Gaza and political science student at Al-Azhar University, which was destroyed in bombings in November 2023. He has been displaced from his home, and like so many others, is now a refugee in Gaza.

There’s no food,” he explains of the current situation. We only have lentils. We eat a small plate of lentils as a meal a day. Sometimes we [have] bread, but not a lot. I go to bed hungry. Sorry to say this without any shame, but I swear I go to bed hungry. We suffer a lot. Please help and support.”


Writing is not just letters on paper; it is an act of survival, a voice of resistance, and a promise for tomorrow.

It is my commitment to myself, to humanity, and to those who will come after us in this world stained with ash.

In moments of bombardment, amidst displacement and hunger, I find in writing a space for deep understanding.

When words are spoken, they are chosen hastily, but when they are written, they pulsate with deep contemplation, a message that escapes loss.

My pen writes so that I don’t forget, so that my memory isn’t erased, so that I can survive.


A Paper Plane

I wish I could be a paper plane for a few minutes

A paper plane that hugs the sky and freedom

A paper plane decorated with the colours of the beautiful Palestinian flag

A paper plane flying to any place I want

A paper plane drawing a smile on the face of the Gazan chile

I wish I could be a paper plane for a few minutes

A paper plane flying in the sky with determination and strength

A paper plane hugging our loved ones that we lost in the sky

A paper plane that says I am here in my sky, I am more beautiful than your stupid planes

A paper plane with a strong soul made by Palestinian hands

A paper plane that has a sky and a beach and the winds and love and life

I wish I could be a paper plane for a few minutes

A paper plane that carries me to Jerusalem and Ramallah

A paper plane that takes me to the West Bank and its camps

A paper plane that demolishes the apartheid walls and makes me hug my loved ones in Nablus

A paper plane that gives me fresh air and hope


Pen

I walked slowly beside my grandfather, Mustafa,

on our way to Lebanon.

But we had misread the compass.

Instead of leading us there, it guided us to beloved Gaza.

With each step, I carried hope in my heart –

hope that one day In would return

to my hometown, Zarnoqa in Palestine.

I believe that dreams do come true.

I learned that in school.

Suddenly, I was pulled from my imagination back into reality.

A cowardly soldier, with a rough voice 

and a strange appearance, stopped us.

He asked, Do you have any thoughts

of surrendering?”

I replied, I don’t know that word

I haven’t seen it in my dictionary.”

Angered, he searched me

and then arrested me.

I was stunned. Why?” I asked.

He said, You’re carrying a dangerous weapon.”

I looked a him, confused. What is it?”

A pen,” he replied.

All I had in my bag was a pen.


I Pondered

I think and feel

that one of the beautiful things

that happens to a human being

is to have enough power

to sit somewhere

far away from the sound of bombs and fear

that follow him

everywhere

Carrying with him a small notebook

And it is in his pocket always

He writes a lot of things

Past, present and future

Hopes and fears and plans

Experiences and tears and moments

They remain preserved in memory

Writings that narrate

what we are living

Sometimes when I’m coming back from the beach near sundown

The moon starts to become visible

I look at the moon

like a little child

and I feel the moon is walking with me

to every place I go

It walks with me

step by step

I look at it and I smile

And I wave my hand

at it

I miss sitting with the moon without missiles


Yahya Alhamarna’s friend has set up a fundraiser to help him build his next chapter when he makes it out of Gaza. Find out more here.

To help aid efforts on the ground in Gaza, consider donating to Medical Aid for Palestinians (M.A.P.) or the Palestine Red Crescent Society.

Consider emailing your local MP to demand that the UK stops transferring arms to Israel, download a template here.

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© 2026 A. B. Bell
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