Some Poems From Palestine Under Siege – 2002
Thank You Dear Mahmoud Darwish for sharing these Beautifull poems with the World.
They are a ray of Light in a Desert of Darkness.
Its a Disgrace all of this Killing & it Must be Stopped !
Lets Pour in our Prayers of Peace & Humblemness &
May All be Aware that only through Gentle ways, can we ever prosper as a Humanity !
Safety comes from Feeling Connected as ONE to Each & Everyone & Everything.
In a War there is only Separation & Duality !
Its so very Sad to watch all of the Loss of people, places & things through all of this Stupidness & Strive for Domination.
Its time that we Return to Basic Values again of Respect & Openness & Determination to bring back Heaven to Earth , instead of Turning The Earth Into a Place of Hate & Fear & Anger & Greed. LOVE Is the Only way to Heal All Pain & Sorrow.
I Love You all my Beloved Friends & Cocreators and So does the Grand Mother & Father.
Keep in Mind that As long as you keep on Judging what is Good or Bad, Right or Wrong , there will be Struggle.
Wishing you all Happiness & Peace of Heart & Mind & the Joy of Being Alive here on this Beautifull Planet.
Forgiveness is so Needed here, as well as a Clear Focus on PEACE
May All the Beings In All the Worlds Know that We the People Need to Come Together
as ONE Humanity. We Are Living on ONE Planet.
All We Need Is LOVE & PEACE & UNDERSTANDING.
Some Poems From Palestine Under Siege – 2002
Here, by the downslope of hills, facing the sunset
and time’s muzzle,
near gardens with severed shadows,
we do what the prisoners do,
and what the unemployed do:
we nurture hope.
This siege will extend until we teach our enemies
paradigms of our Jahili poetry.
In siege, life becomes the time
between remembering life’s beginning
and forgetting its end . . .
Life in its entirety,
life with its shortcomings,
hosts neighboring stars
that are timeless . . .
and immigrant clouds
that are placeless.
And life here
How do we bring it back to life!
Here, by the upslopes of smoke, on the house steps
there is no time for time,
we do what ascenders to Allah do:
The soldiers measure the distance between being
with a tank’s scope . . .
We measure the distance between our bodies
and mortar shells . . . with the sixth sense
even if anticipated,
is a first death
so how can I see
sleeping beneath each stone?
When the fighter planes disappear, the doves fly
white, white. Washing the sky’s cheek
with free wings, reclaiming splendor and sovereignty
of air and play. Higher and higher
the doves fly, white white. I wish the sky
were real ( a man passing between two bombs told me)
(To a killer:) If you’d contemplated the victim’s face
and thought, you would have remembered your mother in the gas
chamber, you would have liberated yourself from the rifle’s wisdom
and changed your mind: this isn’t how identity is reclaimed!
(To another killer:) Had you left the fetus
for thirty days, the possibilities would have changed:
the occupation might end and that suckling
would not remember the time of siege,
and he’d grow up a healthy child, become a young man
and study in the same institution with one of your daughters
the ancient history of Asia
and they might fall together in passion’s net
and beget a girl (and she’d be Jewish by birth)
so what have you done then?
Now your daughter has become a widow
and your granddaughter an orphan?
What have you done to your fugitive family
and how did you strike three doves with one shot?
Alone, we are alone to the dregs,
had it not been for the visits of the rainbow
Do we harm anyone? Do we harm any
country, if we were struck, even if from a distance,
just once, with the drizzle of joy?
Our losses: from two martyrs to eight
and ten wounded
and twenty homes
and fifty olive trees,
in addition to the structural defect
that will afflict the poem and the play and the incomplete painting
He tells her: Wait for me by the chasm’s edge
She says: Come . . . come! I am the chasm
A woman told a cloud: Cover my lover
because my clothes are wet with his blood!
If you’re not a rain my love
be a tree
soaked with fertility . . . be a tree
and if you’re not a tree my love
be a stone
soaked with humidity . . . be a stone
and if you’re not a stone my love
be a moon
in the lover’s sleep . . . be a moon
(that’s what a woman said
to her son at this funeral)
The mother said:
I did not see him walking in his blood
I did not see the purple flower on his foot
he was leaning against the wall
and in his hand
a cup of hot chamomile
he was thinking of his tomorrow . . .
“Me, or him”
that’s how war starts. But
it ends in an awkward stance:
“Me and him”
Mahmoud Darwish – The Butterfly’s Burden – A State of Siege –
Copper Canyon Press
A screenshot from the Times of Israel website on August 1, 2014, showing an article titled “When Genocide is Permissible” and its later removal from the website.
Fri Aug 1, 2014 10:3PM GMT
An Israeli paper has removed an article from its website, which urged “genocide” in the besieged Gaza Strip, a report says.
The article titled “When Genocide is Permissible” was published by The Times of Israel on Friday, but was removed hours later, the Moon of Alabama website reported.
Written by Yochanan Gordon, who defended the move on hisTwitter page, the article called for committing genocide against the Palestinian civilians in Gaza who have been under a massive Israeli assault in the last 25 days.
Israel’s “hands are being tied by world leaders who…
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