Fleeing her bulldozed home in Rafah, Hiding in an attic in the U.N. school, Dreaming of love and sex and poetry, Dreaming of work and politics and soccer, Dreaming of video and song and clothes, Dreaming of becoming, Dreaming of being. This time no soldiers in jackboots drag her off to a death camp. This time a missile incinerates her alongside her diary. Perhaps next time she is born the world will have changed, And she will live long enough fulfill her twice-thwarted sacred mission.