Drawing Strenght from Bitterness - Nemr Wael

I was brewing my coffee and I didn’t know if it was my heart boiling, or the pot. A fire within, and silence without. Memories of a past life rushed in—days when worries were only as big as a cup, and dreams were as vast as a clear sky. I miss those days before the war stole our peace and left us like steam slowly vanishing.

Now, the faces and the laughter have vanished, evaporating like the steam from the pot, leaving behind a hollow silence filled only by the sound of boiling. In that fleeting moment between the then and the now, the lines blurred, I could no longer tell: Was it the coffee pot boiling over, or my own heart?

There is a fire within me, a blaze that burns through what little patience I have left, igniting a yearning for a world that feels like a distant dream.

Today the aroma of coffee is stained with the bitterness of loss and the bitterness of memory. Every drop falling into the cup feels like a searing tear hitting the embers of my soul... extinguishing one fire only to light another.

In Gaza, even the coffee tastes like resilience mixed with pain.

The taste of coffee is no longer the same; it has been tainted by the heaviness of the days and the harshness of absence. This cup has become a mirror reflecting a shattered spirit... a portrait of a face weary from waiting and vigilance. Yet amidst this inferno, thin threads of hope still drift like rising smoke, whispering that as long as there is something burning, something is still alive, waiting to be rebuilt.

This coffee, this boiling, stands as proof that the spirit has not yet surrendered. It is a reminder that pain can awaken untold stories, and that the fire within... though it burns... also lights the path toward whatever hope remains.

I will drink this cup not for its flavor, but to draw strength from its bitterness. I will drink to find the patience hidden in its heat, hoping that in every drop I might reclaim a piece of my lost self, remembering that every fire eventually fades, every storm eventually settles, and one day I will cross to the other side."

- Nemr Wael, North Gaza 2025