Airplane
Baba, up up!
As I hide my tears in her arms
Recalling the little girl laying amid the rubble
Whose father threw in the air
So she may forget
bombs
are
falling
And when she returned from her flight
The world
forgot
That behind the bullet, the bomb, the blockade
Is a daughter
Baba, up up?
Not tonight my love
I hold her tight, in memory of daughters who never returned to their fathers’ arms
Mustafa Saadi
Mustafa is currently at medical student at University of Michigan Medical School. As I become more tenured in medicine, my relationship with death evolves. Life becomes more precious with every witnessed death. Although sadness and despair often hold death's hand, it is these raw emotions that inspires appreciation. Such that each death is a revival of the life that remains.