In the dusty, narrow streets,
The voices of children running,
Seeking a glimmer of hope,
Under a sky filled with threats.
"Here," whispers Grandma, "We share this little,
So they can find hope,
Among the neglected ruins."
Grandmother, you taught me,
That kindness doesn't wait for wealth,
In a sincere heart,
Every penny means a lot,
Like pearls at the ocean's depth.
In the dark of night,
I see that mosque illuminated,
By the love and prayers of you and us together,
Like stars fighting the darkness.
Gaza, a land full of wounds,
Blocked and oppressed,
Yet in every corner,
There is an inexhaustible strength.
Amidst the debris and ruins,
We stand firm,
Like sturdy olive trees,
Facing the unending storm of terror.
I want to be like you, Grandma,
With a big heart even when having little,
Always sharing and spreading goodness,
Even in hardship,
For in every charity, there is infinite blessing.
When this mosque no longer stands,
Shattered along with the homes of the people,
By those without conscience,
When you have exhausted your twilight years,
The memory of your charity and love,
Will continue to shine in my heart,
Like a small flame that never goes out,
Like our love for the land of Palestine,
Our homeland,
And also the land of the prophets,
Which we will defend to the death.
Padang, July 2024
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*This poem was originally published in Leni Marlina's poetry collection in July 2022, and revised in July 2023, before being published later through digital media.
