Poems by Ahmad Alkhatat
Back in the Classroom
Another student raises his hand
and wants to know about his
”it doesn’t matter, this war is
going to mark you absent from the school.”
the teacher said.
”There’s not a day that goes by
when tears aren’t in my eyes.
Calling out to God wondering if he can hear my cries.”
He responded to the teacher.
He sadly died along with his siblings
the teacher is wounded in the wheelchair
and unfortunately, I’m the living witness.
In my mind is a mess of numbers
days, months, years, hours, minutes,
and seconds that never digest
I hate longer numbers because
It reminds me of my refugee’s papers
I love smaller numbers like zero
It adds value to my miserable days
Sometimes, I wish if I have less of zero
in my personal life, but I cannot
I’m thirty-one years old, and wish if
I knew that I should have known that
my current situation will last restless
My thoughts are zero in quantities
My feelings are zero in amounts
My intentions to die are not critical sums
My math and science teacher asked
me why I hate numbers again? I answered
her with ”because I’m nobody but a long number.”
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