What is home?

Home is Gaza. Specifically, the city of Gaza, the only place I’ve ever truly known. The rest of my homeland lives in stories stories I was nurtured with, stories I fell hopelessly in love with. I’ve never had the chance to walk the streets of other Palestinian cities. The occupation robbed us of our right to live freely in our own land, or even to set foot on it. And now, they seek to strip away what little is left of this homeland my beautiful Gaza.

My words may sound like a blend of romanticism and madness, but I choose Gaza now, after the war, and forever. There is no place where I can find peace but here. I love her now more than I ever did when she was adorned in all her splendor. I cannot imagine growing old anywhere else, or my children growing up anywhere but in her streets, even if their playgrounds are littered with rubble. Even if Gaza is harsh to them, even if death snatches away the best years of their lives.

I will not give the occupation the satisfaction of seeing its desires fulfilled. I will not relinquish what is rightfully mine. I will not allow them to dictate my destiny or my future, and I refuse to be driven by their force. Gaza is the sanctuary of my heart, the place where my soul finds rest, even if it is a sanctuary filled with sorrow. Gaza is the very essence of me, and I am of Gaza, until the universe itself ceases to exist.

My dearest Gaza,

I love you, even if to the world you seem destroyed, sorrowful, and utterly exhausted.

It’s all right, my beloved, if they set your homes ablaze, steal the warmth from your neighborhoods, and deface the landmarks we hold dear. When we return, homes will spring forth like the blossoms of spring, the rubble will vanish like a passing nightmare, and we will sing for our martyrs as the heavens shower us with joy.

We will rush to you, hungry, orphaned, with hearts shattered, and your embrace, our mother, will shelter us all. We will paint the streets with color, spreading joy to the remnants of balconies, so that tears will not flood the city.

Pay no heed to the tracks of rogue tanks, to the foreign tongue you cannot comprehend, to the defilement that has stained your sacred soil. They will be gone, erased like a fleeting mistake. But you, you will remain, an indelible mark upon my heart.

I will return to my home, to my city.

With unwavering devotion,

Your daughter…