Both Arabic and Hebrew are Semitic languages that share similar structures and pronunciations, and, as Ibtisam points out, the letter Alef begins both of their alphabets. Ibtisam sees these language similarities as signs that Israelis and Palestinians also have commonalities. Alef represents a hope of connection and peace.

Alef is the building block of the written word, and Ibtisam regards Alef and language as the essence of hope. Alef fosters self-expression, the freedom of communication, and human connection. Alef is Ibtisam’s hope for her own future. In her concluding poem, “A Song for Alef,” Ibtisam details how Alef, like her, is a refugee, without a home but omnipresent, traveling from paper to paper. As a young child, Ibtisam saw Alef as a friend who could assuage her loneliness. As a teen, Alef—the ability to read and write—allows her to write her story, confront and shape her memories, and heal. Alef “is the shape / Of a key / To the postal box / Of memory” (170). Writing provides refuge from fear and repression and gives Ibtisam a sense of freedom. Writing, developing connections, and thinking about new ideas is the key to understanding oneself and one another and to ultimately establishing peace and democracy.