“Poetry is like living in Gaza—
No child returns twice to their mother.”
Taghrid BouMerhi is a renowned Lebanese-Brazilian poet, essayist, translator, and journalist. She serves as the President of CIESART Líbano, appointed by the International Chamber of Writers and Artists. An editor for over 10 print and online magazines, Taghrid bridges cultures through her literary and media work. She has authored 23 books and translated 40 books along with hundreds of poems and literary works. Recognized globally, she was named one of the top 20 international journalists by Legacy Crown. Taghrid’s achievements have earned her numerous international awards, highlighting her role in modern literature and cultural exchange.
POEMS FOR PALESTINE
THE FLOWER OF CITIES
THE FLOWER OF CITIES“Poetry is like living in Gaza—
No child returns twice to their mother.”
The night draws its clouds in the darkness,
Refusing to shine within its shadow.
The wind violently storms the homes,
And the roses kneel, betrayed by those who failed them.
Patience cloaks the people like armor,
Facing injustice too cruel to bear.
Hunger gnaws at hearts, and their famine
Is pain upon pain, exile upon exile!
Yet always, our resolve exceeds our wounds,
Even as death marches forth to gather its prey.
We live, carrying in our chests a trust—
Never to walk the paths of deception.
O Gaza of the free, O cradle of sacrifice,
We will keep writing our blood upon its shores.
A thousand proud children still remain,
Stepping toward victory with unwavering resolve.
The land bears witness, and the Almighty blesses
Every steadfast heart upon this path.
So remain strong, you who have seen our perseverance,
The resilience of the brave who would die for you.
O flower of the beautiful cities,
We offer you the love of our hearts—our greatest dream.
***
IN THE SHADOW OF A WOUND
In the shadow of a wound that will not heal,
The homeland weeps, and dreams break into sobs.
A house martyred in childhood is longed for,
Its days have died upon its threshold.
The sound of explosions strangles hearts,
And orphans mourn the silence of the earth.
Beneath the rubble, dolls cry out in sorrow,
A child calls, where have my dreams gone?
Hunger courses through veins like
Children of poverty who sleep in feigned comfort.
Is there a trace of his smile left!
Or have the people of happiness drifted away?
O death, in your presence we wake,
Weeping as our misery complains of its pain.
Is there a way to restore our paradise?
Green and serene, where souls find peace?
***
A SUPPLICATION
Upon the children of Gaza, a light has dawned,
Calling out to the sea and the long sorrow.
From their innocence, they craft a morning
Whose contours defy the impossible!
They declare: The era of darkness is over,
Dragging behind it a day heavy with grief.
Peace upon childhood as it recites
The hymns of sorrow, generation after generation.
From the bleeding wound, they shape a celestial feast,
A heavenly river, pure and eternal.
They plant palm trees in the fields of the heart,
Embracing the clouds of victory in their shade.
Tears of sorrow wash away every flower,
Asking when a beautiful tomorrow will arrive.
***
WINGS OF LIGHT
By the wings of childhood, I swear,
Fluttering over the tearful roads.
By the voice of truth in the boy’s chest,
And the hands lifted in distant prayers.
By the rain that springs from a beating heart,
Watering the meadows of our exalted land.
We shall keep lighting our torches in the night,
Breathing life into the darkness.
We shall reclaim the glory of our land from its foes,
And guard the honor of its proud legacy.
We shall drown the enemy in the waves of sorrow,
And cast their faces into the abyss.
With the joy of a triumphant dawn,
The land of dignity and noble life will rise again.
O Jerusalem, the roots of our longing run deep,
And Gaza’s embrace is precious in our eyes.
The free shall never bow except to Him
Who created the heavens—until the end of days!
Courtesy: The Silk Road Today, Cairo, Egypt
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