letter # 2


Letter # 2

My love that I didn’t see since year and a half… I don’t miss you… because this word not even one tear closer to what I truly feel…

When we said goodbye I remember we didn’t cry, and the hug was the witness on that… I remember that my feeling was I’m going to see you tomorrow, do our habits , dancing on the streets of Gaza, laugh and sing songs that don’t express but a little of what we feel towards life .. I remember I woke up and called you as you’re not on the border or us being apart is not our destiny… As our own habit – you and I – that melts in our cells sarcasm of what life did to us, and we didn’t finish yet our second decait with our breaths above.

Now, after two years of that robbery, which stool from me a lot of hope and from you even much more. I send you my second letter. The first wasn’t for anyone but you , it was full of tears on a father I don’t see every morning anymore to  drink coffee with, a father who doesn’t kiss me goodnight .. Full of tears on separation, and a lot of faith in Allah who I love but he doesn’t love me back, Infidelity of destiny and a lost battle of love finished with no tears… this letter is different .. I am different… today I don’t see you next to me even though I know you feel me closer… I see myself with new friends, I like them, and tell them about you more every day without tears… my love, I know that you know my words don’t mean any abandonment  but more hope in meeting you, and more love for the eyes of al Maha and for a Moroccan house I adore. I know that you know we’re growing, and nothing from us tore anything inside us , and nothing from them killed anything inside us but a little of rockets, shrapnel and some burns left big prints on our future together ..

This letter has some of faith in life, and in Allah who loves us so much and we love him more every day… you’re in France these days, visiting your beloved sister and her bigger family now with their new born. Waiting from me a message to call me… I don’t want to admit it, but I’m scared… you’re voice terrifies me. I’m scared to miss you more, to feel pain and go back to infidelity of destiny… I’m scared to feel your weakness, that would break my body again and that I won’t go back on holding tight in waiting for hope that might come tomorrow in anytime… I’m worried that both of us would be waiting for love and tender in the same moment… that we would be lost in the dilution of us together which I become professional at… but with all my weakness I know you’re the only one who can make me stronger with one laugh or a word we used to share or maybe a French accent that might amaze me till I revolute on life.

Today we’re at our second year of university, you are in Switzerland and I am in Palestine… You long for her, your house and for days on a beach drowned us in his love… For an Arabian meal, for friends who knows you, for your bed that you adore its pillow, that you don’t sacrifice it even for me! you’re new friends love you no doubt, who sets with you for one time recognize your special character and how its filled of multiple corners that aren’t known even internationally. But none knows you the way I do, you might eat caned macaroni together, dance on house music, walk in beautiful streets, and drink hot chocolate together with a failing try for study… but they never knew her pretty Moroccan skin, nor when you were laughing together after a Moroccan conversation that I didn’t understand any of it but I have to laugh now.. They didn’t know you’re house before and after. Nor your room that was burnt by the occupation, they didn’t see you crying as a crazy Juliet lost her Romeo but didn’t find the poison to kill herself after wards, they didn’t watch you sleeping till the morning terrified to lose you .. They didn’t know your highest weakness… they didn’t hold your hand when everyone wanted to know the story, and you didn’t hold theirs when the chair crushed their fingers… you didn’t watch 4 movies in the same night together  just to not remember anything from the reality.. They didn’t give you their cloths when all of yours were burned, they didn’t kiss you before you go to sleep in the dark… you didn’t say goodbye for each other shaking… they don’t love you deeply, they don’t need you desperately .. But with all of that I wish they value you and never try to lose you for a moment…

My days recently are filled with wondering about the future, because I know the past we could never change, and destiny is written already… I was talking to our Tunisian, French colored friend. That we might meet together after two years, all of us in France in the same time of the years as now.  You and I together again, him and some beautiful friends that you know.  Surf its streets, as revolutionists on our destiny… I wish that so much! Our dear Tunisian friend, you introduced me to him when I visited Tunisia this summer, you didn’t leave me even there… you practiced your tender habit and hocked us up with his family, too. He used to study with your sister Bessan and her husband in university… he knew you. You don’t know how much I enjoyed smelling you from him… he knew my love… he saw her recently in this time last year. He was so generous and hansom. He knew how much I love you from how I spell your name… I wished to see you there… I had this stupid theory that just when I step out of Gaza I’m going to see you on the other side… naïve! I know… but in Egypt I met my precious Syrian friend Sarah with a Palestinian heart… we were close friends in secondary school and life separated us… but we met again… I enjoyed Egypt with her… we talked a lot, cried in each other arm… Laughed so much with our third faithful friend with no selfishness… We ate koshari and bought clothes with new memories… all of that gave me more faith in my heart to meet you soon.

Life never left us from its hard days even after two years… even in Switzerland which we thought it might be the safe shelter, maybe because it’s a neutral country. You moved from a department to a college building to another department, to a house might be warmer with an old lady. You try to focus on your study… but I want you to know whatever you do I’m proud of you… Christina the one with the rocked heart didn’t woke up from the shock or get over the situation in grey’s anatomy season seven. You know how much I love this series; its drama isn’t temporary exactly as reality. But you did… I needed a lot of time to realize how much I became dark inside me but I did in the end… we stepped one step forward… it’s a great establishment. And who says anything but that, they’re Zionist no doubt.

I long for a cup of tea with you and a fireplace… today am very cold with no rain… Gaza’s sky didn’t cry for awhile… maybe it lost its faith of the land to plant people who could love deeply and fight with dignity… or maybe it doesn’t know how to rain again after the land rain on it with blood… I found out today that the sister of ihsan’s husband is with me in university, we go to this class where they teach us religious thoughts don’t relate to Allah or how to love him more… she gets sad every time she talks about her died brother.. Till she showed me his picture, I told her we’re friends and I lived the whole story with them… I didn’t care much about her face changes after wards, you and I know why… but all what was spinning in my head, the day when Ihasan showed me her wounded body, designed with killing shrapnel… as if she was showing me prints of her heart’s death, her heart which didn’t love but that man who lived as a lover and left her as a martyr..

Love, I long to you more just because of thinking, and worried more just because of remembering…i send you a rose, a tear, and two kisses… The rose for your precious memory of her in your heart… the tear for the long destines that separates us… and the two kisses the first for you, and the second for tomorrow that will hold us together… remember me deeply not much.. Laugh louder and never hesitate to revolute… living with regrets on things you did is way better on living with regrets on things you didn’t do…

I’ll send you my third letter in a closer season with no tears between its lines nor sadness in its heart… and I’ll leave all the letters for you to draw and all the songs for you to dance and all the love for you to enjoy with your own traditions… just stay safe, and live free as I always loved you..



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