I Watched Gaza Burn From My Bed by Fatima Zahra Gul

I Watched Gaza Burn From My Bed Fatima Zahra Gul i made teawhile gaza lost internet.they bombed jabalialike it wasn’t filled with sleeping children.like it wasn’t already rubble the last time they came.al-ahli hospital glowed orange,not with hope,but with 471 lives turned to ashin one breath.the news called it a “misfire.”as if that soothed the motherspulling body parts from broken prayer mats.i saw amal and mohammad kneel besidetheir dead siblings.their faces older than their years,their grief aired live,then forgotten.i remember hind rajab.six years old.trapped in a car surrounded by her family’s corpses,whispering “they’re shooting… come get me.”they found her twelve days later.bullet in her head,rescue team dead beside her.i remember her voicemore than the silence of those who could’ve helped.i scroll past pictures of rafahwhere tents fold in on bodies like grief.where water is a privilegeand bread is a miracle.and from my room;with the fan on,with a full plate,with the guilt of breathing,i stare.gaza dies in real-timeand we livestream our helplessness.i don’t know if it’s protestor performative.i just knowi haven’t been able to sleep right since october. More from Fatima Zahra Gul ↓* @fatimaasarchive_ on InstagramYou can listen to me read this poem over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure