We Are The Abu Ras Family, Once Living Peacefully In The Northern Gaza Strip. Like So Many Others, Our

grand plans.

The Sun needs not the Moon

The Sun needs not the Moon,

For if the Moon in the sky had burned as bright,

How come it's canvas remains a pitch black sight?

For if the Sun needed the Moon,

How come it holds it's own,

How come the Moon only reflects the lambent wishes of the Sun?

But what if the Sun sees himself as the Moon,

And the Moon as the Sun,

If the Moon sees himself for what he truly is,

And the Sun so bright he basks in it.

The Sun needs not the Moon,

And the Moon knows this,

He prefers not to shade the Sun's light,

Would never want to reduce the hopeful rays to pathetic halos,

For halos cannot light up the world.

The Moon sees everything in the Sun,

And what the Moon brings is what the people believe as madness,

And truthfully, what he brings is darkness,

If the Sun may bring the people happiness,

If the Moon did not hold their best interests in his cold heart,

Then the Moon will fear not the day he leaves.

But what the Moon does not know,

The day that he fades away from even the Sun's view,

The Sun will weep, raining gold,

The Sun will feel...cold...

The Sun isn't meant to be cold.

(What used to be golden and anew, burst into fading light, and followed the Moon)

Hello. Khawla and their family need your help! They need to feed their child, Ghazal but the cost of milk is high. She also is suffering from an injury which also is a costly problem. YOU can come to this girl’s aid by going to their go fund me right here:

gofundme.com

Donate to Support Khawla's Family in Gaza Crisis, organized by Abi Lass

My name is Abi from Lincoln, NE, and I'm raising money for Khawla and her family from … Abi Lass needs your support for Support Khawla's Fam

Please donate and share this link! This is very urgent because they’re currently living in very poor circumstances.

In another world, he fucks up, in another world, he blows up, in another world, he dies and come back, in another world lets guilt crawl beneath his skin.

What more could he feel in his world but self-pity?

What else does he feel for himself but selfish self-sabotage?

(Must he die first, to wake up?)

Do not follow me, (not anymore)

I would love you as if you were my own, My own to love, and my own to mourn, I would card my fingers through the tidal curls, And sweep past all the dirt crumbs you had, Because you rolled in damp swamp grass.

I would protect you, from anyone else who dare harm you, Even if you are a fighter and I, a writer, You seem to need me so I will guide you so, Little soldier, you should've stayed a child for a little while longer, It was not your time to see piercing spears and impaling blades on a blood strewn battlefield, Young minds are not meant to don old armor, But why, oh why in my naivete did I lead you here?

Please don't follow me, not anymore, I have no trust in myself to hold your guiding torch, I might burn you with a single blind swing, Just as I had all that long ago when I singed my own wings, I have a lot to say, but too little courage to tell; Apologies are on the tip of my tongue, but they can't seem to spill.

Little child I love like my own, If you were to forgive the one who raised you, Would they not hurt you anymore?

I will give you every reason I could think of, so you would let go, I'm afraid if you stay by my side for longer than you need to, I'd harm you just like all those years ago, I never lay a hand against you, but I broke that porcelain pedestal, And the shards of porcelain left bleeding cuts I could not mend.

I'm sorry, my dear, I wish you the best.

It's in his nature and personality to protect his loved ones, to shield them from everything that could be a harm to them, they are what he treasures the most.

What do you expect the man to do, when he is the threat? If he's the one who's hurting them?

The moment he realized how ill he spoke of them, especially one fading star among them, what did you expect the Prince man to do?

(He chooses to die.)

The Wind.

The fleeting feelings of love

the petulant pieces of a love long-gone,

I am every breeze-kiss that brush your lips,

and I am every dandelion wish,

most of all, don't you dare forget;

the Wind is my lover,

and I am the Wind.

What used to be golden and anew...

...burst into fading light, and followed the Moon.

The Sun needs not the Moon,

For if the Moon in the sky had burned as bright,

How come it's canvas remains a pitch black sight?

For if the Sun needed the Moon,

How come it holds it's own,

How come the Moon only reflects the lambent wishes of the Sun?

But what if the Sun sees himself as the Moon,

And the Moon as the Sun,

If the Moon sees himself for what he truly is,

And the Sun so bright he basks in it.

The Sun needs not the Moon,

And the Moon knows this,

He prefers not to shade the Sun's light,

Would want never to reduce the hopeful rays to pathetic halos,

For halos cannot light up the world.

The Moon sees everything in the Sun,

And what the Moon brings is what the people believe as madness,

And truthfully, what he brings is darkness,

If the Sun may bring the people happiness,

If the Moon did not hold their best interests in his cold heart,

Then the Moon will fear not the day he leaves.

But what the Moon does not know,

The day that he fades away from even the Sun's view,

The Sun will weep, raining gold,

The Sun will feel...cold...

The Sun isn't meant to be cold.

(What used to be golden and anew, burst into fading light, and followed the Moon)

Go fund mes to donate to if you can! (would be greatly appreciated if anyone could donate and reblog to help these people)

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Diana and her family to survive in Gaza, organised by Diana AlAjrami

Dear friends and everyone who knows me or not. My name is Diana, a Pal… Diana AlAjrami needs your support for Help Diana and her family

https://gofund.me/3ebf0c0f

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Donate to Save Dr. Farhat's family from genocide in Gaza, organized by Farhat's Family

In the heart of war-torn Gaza, where destruction and loss are a daily … Farhat's Family needs your support for Save Dr. Farhat's family fro

https://gofund.me/07f652e2

gofundme.com

Donate to Help me saving who's left of my family, organized by Mosab Derawi

Hello Everyone, I am Mosab Suleiman Al Derawi, 28 years old, my wife Nadine Adel A… Mosab Derawi needs your support for Help me saving who's

gofundme.com

Donate to A Cry of Pain from the Al-Safadi Family Devastated, organized by Lina Alsafadi

I am Mahmoud Al-Safadi, a 54-year-old man, married to Nada, who is 40… Lina Alsafadi needs your support for A Cry of Pain from the Al-Safadi

https://gofund.me/363ae8ca

gofundme.com

Donate to Please help my family in Gaza , organized by Youssef Abed

I am Youssef married and have 3 children from the destroyed Gaza Strip. Before October 7, … Youssef Abed needs your support for Please help

https://gofund.me/f18c36b8

https://gofund.me/3ebf0c0f

The Woman Who Painted,

And Never Forgot

Have you ever heard, of a story told in words

Painted in your mind, and burned into your heart?

Of each time a statement so significant, would not be forgotten by one, and instead cursed (or blessed) to never forget;

Where words to be heard, inspires the mind to bring out it's canvas, paint it's joys or sorrows away, and hang the painting up, for no one else but one to see?

I'll tell you a tale, of a woman no one knows the name of,

But her story is to be remembered, as a tale children hear, at night from their parents' whispers

Of a woman, who could not forgot, a significant line from those she held dear,

Both a blessing

And a curse

At first, it was her mother

The drip, drip, dripping of "Honey" from her lips

It trickled itself into her mind, fed her heart

It was syrupy, like a sweet treat after a hard day

It was her first love, and one that was to never to be taken from her,

Second, was from her brother,

"I hate you!"

It was discordant, all written in static, it hurt, she could see and hear the insincerity in this declaration,

She apologized shortly after, their small little quarrel, she'd rather never hear or see, that horrid line of hurt, much less would she want that insincerity, become no longer.

Next was her lover,

Name known to none but family and her,

"Sweetheart"

In a loopy handwriting, full of curled arcs and elongated inking, red, cherry red in color

She tucks this memory in her arms, and placed it high in her mind, never to forget

Last was her former love,

Name known to none but her family and her,

"I've found someone"

It was covered in roses, but with roses come thorns

And those thorns dug through her heart, wrapped itself around her mouth

Left her speechless and in tears,

A tale of a woman, who could not forget,

A tale of someone, who wishes to never paint any words again,

A tale that warns children

Be careful with what you say, because sometimes, people are cursed not to forget

A tale that warns them all,

Not all love will end sweet.