A poem from Gaza

If I must starve,
Let it be with dignity in my children’s eyes,
not with my hands tied by silence.

Let the world witness
that I did not bow to the hunger
but stood, even as the sky emptied
and the earth closed her mouth.

If I must starve,
let it be while I still cradle my child’s hope,
not as a number lost in footnotes.

Let the sea carry my name
to the shores that forgot my people,
and let the wind whisper:
she fed love when bread was gone.

Nour Abdel Latif, July 2025.