Storm

One day, you will miss me.
Not my face,
nor my shaky smiles
after a day of sickening worries.
Not the bad jokes,
nor my stories .
You will miss my words,
each letter stitched with the pain,
of a Gaza that once breathed freely,
of hope crushed beneath tanks.

You will miss the storm I brought to you
the one that overturned your settled rooms,
tore down the fences
people build around them,
and cleared a path through the debris
of roads you never needed.

And I,
I will be drifting elsewhere,
floating,
creating new storms
for those who honour the wind, love words and stories,
for those hungry enough
to chase the change
their souls have been waiting for