Two Poems by Haia Mohammed

We are honoured to publish two new poems – 'Bird' and 'Just A Simple Life' – by Haia Mohammed, a 23-year-old poet from Khan Younis in Gaza, reflecting some of her experiences, pains, and dreams living through occupation and genocide. Haia was awarded a full scholarship to study Creative Writing at Goldsmiths, University of London, and recently arrived in the UK in September 2025 to begin her studies. She is part of the first group of scholars to be successfully evacuated from Gaza to the UK.

Haia's debut poetry pamphlet, The Age of Olive Trees (Out-Spoken Press, 2025) is out now, with all proceeds going to the author to help support her and her family. 

You can also donate to her GoFundMe campaign here.

Bird

From the rooftop
the world lay beneath me

the sun gathering its final
light from the sea, trembling.

Everything around me moved,
shifted, breathed except me.

I watched and wondered if
I had slipped out of God’s memory.

Lifting my face upward,
my stomach emptier than my breath

Ya Rabb.

I folded into myself
and descended
into the familiar darkness

the watching, the waiting,
the drowning sleep.

I was woken by a baby bird
that landed beside me,
its mouth full of its evening meal,

singing with a peace that did not belong
to days like mine.

Had the One who shaped this bird,
who placed its food before it,
forgotten about me?

Then a message arrived:
You have been accepted.

In that instant the path reshaped,
the night loosened
and for the first time,

my wings fluttered.

Just A Simple Life

Laughter on rainy days with hot cups of coffee.
To study, to graduate, to pursue a job in programming.
To make my Baba, may he rest in peace
and my family proud. To see snow and build
a snowman. To have a home overlooking the sea
windows full of plants. To run in the streets of Istanbul
with my dearest friend. To buy a house for my beloved
mother who endured the world after Baba passed.
To see our family grow.
To play with grandchildren around us.
To spend some dull and monotonous days in my room.
To sit at the table with my family just like we are doing now.
Each of us with our private dreams and our futures.
We distribute the dishes and prepare to start our meal.
And then ...
Then what?

a rocket
strikes our house.

Cover image: Bird Returning to Its Nest by Georges Braque