By Nahida Izzat
So, let me get this straight:
You tear my veil to free me
You jail me to rid me of my terror
You kill my beloved to liberate me
You shoot my baby to erase my misery
You starve me to show me how to vote
You threaten me to bring me to my senses
You wage war on me to help me find peace
You slay my people to teach me compassion
You humiliate me to aid me live with dignity
You insult me to illustrate freedom of speech
You crush my bones to save me from my evil
You demolish my home to elevate my morality
You uproot my tree to raise my ethical standard
You steal my resources to bring me social justice
You assassinate my leaders to bring me security
You bomb my town to train me into democracy
You destroy my history to educate me about progress
You dehumanise me to coach me into humanity
You wipe me out to push me to civilisation
You scorn my faith to bring me salvation
Thank you sir
How can I -ever- pay you back?
Nahida is a Jerusalem-born poet living in exile. Her site is: http://poetryforpalestine.spaces.live.com/, her Palestinian Mothers page is: http://palestinian.ning.com/profile/nahida
Poetry can never be translated 100%, the moment my words leave my heart to occupy yours, it loses some of its identity, and almost all its music. But still poetry is a form of communication used to express one’s feeling in a very special way. I leave you here with one of my poems.
Legged StonesBy Iqbal Tamimi
The bed of defeat has always been feminine
Ever since the sky was within reach
a womb less pillow of Vanilla
Giving birth to scandals
The thorns took advantage.
Climbing the shoulders of the bare peach
Stealing the bride,
Whose perfume has never swung in the wind
The apple went mad
Glued his grief
to the fingers of his land.
Took off his desire
I’ve perfected banging water drums
Because my share of plight, is exactly as yours
Thought my teardrops
could quench the hatred fire.
We all perfected the game
Attacking the features of things
We dallied with the nails of our jailer
Who bought the East
sometimes with prayers.
With a convoy of female slaves
The knight of the mountains
Has been collecting our wounds
To sprinkle them on a heap of dew
Waited for a long time
Until the stones sprouted legs
Chasing the mud groom
Who tested the virginity of heavens
Bearing on the shoulders of his winter
His imported season.
Screamed.. His shirt
Rescue me please, from this cold body
My circle has been defeated by armies of frost
Chased by eagles of dust
Throw your body
Against the ink lorry
Drown your sorrow in a cup of coffee or..
Die standing up like a wall
Defend the thyme’s hymen
Defend a wagon.
Ready to load the victims of tremor
Poems, honey flavored
Document your defeat …if you choose
On a crying poem
For a lilac, became a naked martyr
While building a pavement, for the news.
This poem in Arabic can be found here: