Avian symbolism in Unsilenced – Poems for Palestine

Birds have long been powerful symbols in literature. The imagery of birds has been used to convey complex themes and emotions, allowing writers to explore the depths of human experience. In war poetry, birds often symbolise both the longing for freedom and the sombre realities of conflict, often serving as powerful metaphors for hope, resilience, and the fleeting nature of peace amidst chaos.

In the anthology Unsilenced – Poems for Palestine, several poets often use the fragile yet stubborn figure of the bird to express their grief. In Lana Derkac’s poetry, birds become tender mourners and gentle healers whose song “wraps up the bones they find /… / as if providing them with new tissue,” an elegiac imagery that repairs flesh with music. Zeynep Karaca, on the other hand, utilises the avian symbol through a single, fleeting moment of Edenic peace: “the bird singing in the garden” conveys a sense of suspense, since in its fragility, it is dangerously poised on the brink of violence. Similarly, Sonia Maddouri’s “cooing of a dove on festive days” drapes peace in memory and ritual; it is as if the dove’s gentle yearn is merely emphasising the bitter absence of celebration. Shirani Rajapakse likewise associates “the sounds of gulls” with the idea of a promised peace which, till now, persists in its elusiveness.

In other poems of the anthology, avian imagery shifts from comforting to menacing, mirroring Palestine’s brutal reality. Birds become dark omens rather than symbols of hope. Ridvan Ardic’s image of black swans choking in a strait suggests the idea that even the most extraordinary creatures suffocate under siege. Furthermore, Franca Colozzo’s birds are agents of death; with her “Black Ravens” that “sow hatred,” she recasts these black birds, once tied to death, as active symbols of human malice. In another poem of hers, she even describes how the “crow’s wings” brush “against angel wings” – a salient imagery that dramatises the collision between the oppressors’ wickedness and the victims’ sanctity. Abigail George’s stark imagery depicting “skulls of birds” reduces nature itself to mere bones, a visceral emblem of mortality and violence. Jeftimiljević Lilić turns the dove – traditionally a symbol of peace — into a relentless black observer, hovering as a portent of doom rather than hope, whilst Sonia Maddouri’s imagery of “birds pecking the heads of the Bereaved” and Marwan Makhoul’s vultures swooping down, on the other hand, transform grief into spectacle. Finally, Mirela Leka Xhavi’s description of the cuckoo’s lament, presented as both curse and echo beyond the grave, blends folklore with the supernatural, framing sorrow as a spectral refrain that haunts the living. Together, these darker avian symbols dramatise how war warps nature’s song into silence, flight into entrapment, and hope into horror.

 

Across several poems in this anthology, birds seem to trace the fragile arc of Palestinian life from birth to death. Josie di Sciascio-Andrews uses an avian extended metaphor to create a contrast between the innocent children “hatching in mine fields” and the perilous setting imposed on their lives. Marwan Makhoul uses similar symbolism when he depicts the idea of “two dove’s eggs / to hatch, male and female, from me and for me,” turning each birth into a hopeful, almost sacred, gift amidst military conflict. The avian metaphor is also utilised in the final stages of life. Ghassan Zaqtan’s euphemism, “when the birds sleep,” turns death into a collective lull, a moment of sorrowful stillness that blankets the living. Franca Colozzo’s elegiac use of avian register transfigures the fallen into a silent, feather-light procession: “Wings spread to the wind, they rise / In a silent procession, / Drifting like feathers, / They ascend into flight / From the hospital in Gaza.” Together, these poetic images chart a cycle in which hatching represents miraculous beginnings, sleep signifies gentle passage, and flight enacts the soul’s ultimate liberation.

In these verses dedicated to Palestine and her people, birds carry the weight of hope and grief across every line. Some poets cast them as gentle healers or beacons of inner compassion, wrapping loss in song and carrying fledgling lives through war-torn streets. Others summon darker wings —ravens that sow hatred or vultures that feast on despair. Yet, through images of hatching, peaceful sleep and final flight, these verses trace a full circle. This anthology suggests that the bird endures as one of the most potent symbols of resilience and release. As Mehmet Murat Ildan once wrote, “Wherever there are birds, there is hope.”

 

Dr David Aloisio