‘Voices from Gaza’ provides creative platform for young Palestinian writers
Published: 20 April 2026
Young Palestinian writers are being encouraged to share their work and express their experiences in creative ways, thanks to a new blog developed by the University of Glasgow and Islamic University of Gaza.
Young Palestinian writers are being encouraged to share their work and express their experiences in creative ways, thanks to a new blog developed by the University of Glasgow and Islamic University of Gaza.
More than 30 Palestinian students have so far contributed to the Voices from Gaza blog, which publishes short fiction, poetry, and narrative essays in themed monthly collections.
The latest collection - published on 31 March 2026 - explores the themes of love, loss and belonging in times of conflict. Associated contributions can also be accessed on the blog’s Instagram page.
One of the contributors described their experience of submitting to the blog: “I truly believe that the ‘Voices from Gaza’ project is special to all of us. The result is beautiful, and I am very grateful to be a part of it.”
UofG Doctoral Student Michael Quinn helped develop and curate the blog. He said: “Our hope is that these voices and narratives reach broader audiences, inspire action, and highlight the power and creativity emerging from Gaza, even in these exceedingly difficult times.
“These poems, stories and narrative accounts offer a means for students in Gaza to express their experiences in their own words. While these works explore themes of fear, hurt and darkness, there is also a powerful unifying message of love, hope and optimism.”
Extracts from 'Voices from Gaza'
Law of the Hungry Sea, written by Noor Kamal Mosa
The tears of the tattered tent pour into the restless sea
The sea grows wild, sinking its tusks into the body of the burdened
The burdened ticks the last nail in his coffin-like tent
The tent sinks yieldingly, where hundreds ravenous monsters lay
The monsters share the tent, while countless fishes spy in silence
The foolish fishes close their doors, as if monsters could ever be satisfied
The greatest villain wears the false-peace mantle and spreads calls of hollow talks of peace
The talks dope the fishes, while the monsters absorb their blood
The blood is a blackish, indolent gun.
The tent curses them, while it gives its umpteenth breath,
And I, trapped in this futile circle of breath,
Wonder, Is it all worth it? Is it the jungle law?
Or it is cowardice carved into the bone.
Escape, written by Haya
The walls quivered as gunfire ripped through the morning, louder, sharper, more vicious than anything I’d heard before. Apache helicopters hovered above us so low they made the house tremble like a frightened child.
By noon, the world outside our door was unrecognizable: bullets above, shells behind, tanks carving destruction into the earth around us. We stayed frozen for nearly eleven hours—prisoners inside our own home, easy targets if we dared to move. But the nightmare did not stop there.
The shells multiplied louder, closer, angrier than anything we had ever heard. Each one struck like a hammer against the walls, shaking the houses as if trying to tear them apart with bare hands. Bullets rained down on the homes, ripping through doors, windows, and anything that dared to stand.
Death was circling us, tightening its grip with every blast. We had no real choice. Either stay, and die, or run into the open, into the nothingness beyond, where death waited for us just the same. Yet still we had to choose. Everyone wanted to escape, to just make it out alive.
Then my dad’s voice cut through the chaos.
“You both need to run. We’ll follow.”
Leaving them behind felt like tearing out a part of myself.
“Go!” he urged, his voice shaking yet firm.
So, we ran.
Into dust.
Into smoke.
Into the screaming unknown.
First published: 20 April 2026