The will


 

The will

After the shooting of 4 months old baby Iman Hijjo, I heard a poem on one of the Arabic satellite channels, I drafted a general rough translation, and this poem was the result.

Iman… a baby with a tiny tender body

So soft and pure

A smile ever so beautiful

A gentle touch… delightful face

Big brown eyes 

A baby… a baby with feelings ever so strong

 

You saw those who raped your homeland

Just before you were shot by Zionist … occupiers

With a bullet in your heart

Depriving you of your mum’s sight

 

It’s ok, it’s ok sweet heart

Heaven is wonderful

Heaven is wonderful and it suits you!

A princess so smart

The pain… the blood… the deep wound

Couldn’t wipe away your gorgeous smile

 

They gently wrapped her soft body

With a flag of Palestine

A white lacey veil hugged her hair

Iman the bride of Palestine!!

 

Surrounded with clouds of love

Carried over passionate shoulders

Iman flew over their heads

She saw her mum crying

She cried with a loud voice: mama

Mama, sweet heart don’t cry

Don’t cry!

Don’t cry my open wound

Don’t cry the slaughtered child

Don’t cry my running blood

You are not alone

The stones of my country

The trees of my country

Will speak to you

Mama, bring to life little children

Don’t say they’re only young

A tiny spark… a tiny spark

Can make fires burning with flames

To grow strong  they need strength

Lots of love and heaps of stones

With the call of "God is the Greatest"

Most Kind… Most Just… Supremely Devine

The flag of Zion will fall down

And up will fly the flag of Palestine

 

Their oppression have no chance in the land of purity

Their evil deeds cannot survive

The Holy Land will be free again

A glad tiding from a Glorious Lord

 

Mama, wipe your tears away

Show me your beautiful smile

My death is only a gateway to Heaven

Next to my Lord

Welcomed by angels

Immersed in springs of love and joy

Mama, if they killed millions we will gladly die

We will die mama for Palestine to survive

 

He was a Jew


 

 He was a Jew

After attending a talk by a Jewish person regarding the situation in Palestine, I was very moved by what he had to say, and I wrote this poem 

He was a Jew

An honourable Jew

Speaking with compassion

Siding with the truth

With a big warm heart

A conscience clear and pure

Anti-Semitic we were told

Self-hater he was called

But simply… he was a Jew

An honourable Jew

Supposedly… one of you

With a tiny huge difference!!! 

He has no blood on his hands

Nor did he steal anyone’s land

 

He has a dream just like mine

To go together and visit Palestine

He as a tourist with me, a refugee

Returning back home with no reason to flee

He was a Jew

An honourable Jew


Iman


Iman

images

After hearing of the killing of baby Iman, my son Hassan -then 18- wrote this 

First time parents

So proud of their girl

Still in their teens

She’s changed their whole world

He dreams of his daughter

Growing, drawing a crowd

A doctor or lawyer

Making him proud…

 

But then the shelling starts

And she begins to cry

The soldiers of Zion don’t care

Who will live, and who will die

Her mother’s cuddle feels safe

Feels soft and so secure

And in her mother’s arms she cried

Then the shot

And she cried no more…

 

The pretty face lay at peace

As her tiny body bled

Her little frame was drained

An evil bullet made the hole…

Now a one foot coffin rests for the last time

A foot for every month of life

A foot for every bullet used

To kill this little soul…

Spot the difference


Spot the difference
.
 

.

Generally speaking a crime is a crime

But, to be more precise
Some “crimes” are more “crimes” than others 

I mean… some crimes are crimes

.

And some crimes are

crimes

 

Killing a Palestinian, for example is a crime

A thumb-size paragraph in some daily telegraph

Killing a Jew however

.

 

Is a

.

crime

.
.
A front page cover in every newspaper
Repeated over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over

Now, can you see the difference?

.

Criminals in disguise


 

Criminals in disguise

 Smartly dressed, with suites and ties

Strait faces and yellow smiles

Piercing looks and cold…cold…cold… dull eyes

Swollen with arrogance

In their press releases they express their pride

Of their brave soldiers… they praise their "good" work

Of ethnic cleansing and mass murder

Their smart bombs never miss a target

Its destruction is so precise

 

Killing wearing a suite is quite all right

Desirable and justified

Further more it’s civilized

 

Am I going crazy?

Or is it the world just going mad?

Please just tell me… why… I can’t understand

 

So safe and secure “Aman”


 

"Aman"

Little "Ashraf" of Palestine

Wanted to go out to town

He gets ready as fast as he can

Sparkly eyes and a gorgeous smile

Down in town he wonders around

This is so wonderful… how peaceful

So safe and secure

It is "Aman"

He whispers with a smile

These are big words, I said

For a five year old!

What do you mean by safe and secure?

It means

There is nothing to frighten you

Nothing to make you scared

There is no fear in your heart

Now, do you understand?

He simply replied

  

Aman is an Arabic word which means safe- secure
 

My little visitor from Ram Allah


 

My little visitor from Ram-Allah 

He was only five

He came over just for a visit

All the way from Ram-Allah  to Liverpool

To experience  some "normal" life

Only for a while

Wouldn’t that be cool?

 

Ashraf was his name

Building houses  out of cushions

Then, knocking the houses down

With a bulldozer

Was his favourite game!

 

Do you think  when we go back

Will we find our home… standing

Or will it be destroyed?

Anxiously he’ll ask

  

There is nothing to worry about

No harm will be done to your lovely home

My sweetheart

 

But they’ve got big bulldozers

Huge and ugly ones

And they’ve got so many, many of them

You’ve never seen them but, I’ve seen them all

Every day

Shaking… with tears in his eyes

 

Turning my head… gazing away…avoiding his sad eyes

Feeling so helpless so ashamed

Nothing left to say!! 

 

Ashraf in the park


Ashraf in the park 

It was an autumn Friday morning

Children in their schools

Little Ashraf was lonely

How about… going out to the park ? I said

His face lit up with joy

Got ready in no time

 

When we got there

He couldn’t even wait to put on his hat

So exited… he ran out ever so fast 

 

We were delighted to see him so happy

Running… Jumping… experiencing the freedom of no curfew

The freedom to play with no soldiers around

 

My friend Hanifa whispered with joy

Let him do what ever he likes

Let him play… let that be his day

We’ll just watch from a distance

So, he doesn’t get hurt

  

Ashraf ran to the slide

Suddenly… stopping… standing there frozen

Not knowing what to do

 

After a while

He ran towards the swings

Suddenly… stopping… frozen yet again

Not knowing what to do

 

Moved towards the see-saw

He didn’t do a thing

Then he was moving from one ride to the other

Without even trying to try anything

He didn’t know.. what to do

He simply didn’t know… how to play

 

Tears filled out our eyes

And, we decided to go… help him

Show him how to play

 

I convinced him to try the swing

Sitting in the swing… frozen

He begged me not to push

I am scared… I am so scared

He kept on saying

 

Its ok sweetheart

Let’s try something else

That colourful rocket… over there

Unlike the swing it doesn’t move at all

All you have to do Ashraf

Is to climb up the steps to get to the top

 

Clinging on to me

He anxiously said

And then what?

What if the rocket takes off?

  

We moved on to the slide

Where we helped him

To climb up the few steps

All he needs to do then

Is to cross over the wooden bridge

To reach to the other side

He couldn’t move a foot… yet again

 

Hanifa, my friend decided to climb up

To help him cross to the other side

She gave her hand saying

Come on Ashraf

You can do it

 

Shaking… holding on so tight

He bravely ran towards her

She gave him a big hug

Wonderful  … you’re so brave

She said

 

A big sigh of relief

From little Ashraf, saying

I made it !!

I passed the check-point

Why not?


Why not?

I can talk …I can walk

I can touch … I can taste

I can smell … I can breathe

So, why not shine?

I can think … I can blink

I can see … I can hear

I can feel … I can dream

So, why not shine? 

I can give … I can love

I can share … I can care

I can laugh … I can cry

So, why not shine?

 

People say:

You are living on cloud nine 

My reply:

You choose your life… and I choose mine

You are God’s masterpiece


You are God’s masterpiece 

69742_405573392849448_9439061_n

Yes… you

Those magical eyes

When you’re happy smiling

And even when you cry

 12-2

This mind of yours

A universe within

Fascinating, magnificent

By its very existence

But more so, its awareness

That it exists 

DSC00628

That big warm heart

So loving, full of passion

Without even knowing how or why 

image001

Can you keep a secret?

If you promise,

I’ll share it with you…

Did you say yes?

Ok then… listen carefully

 

lg_img_2285

Your desire for love is an in-built yearning

To be with the One Most Loving, God

 

Your hunger for justice is the innate longing

For the Supreme Just, God

 

Your search for peace is truly hunting

The Only Source of Peace, God

 

Your secret wish for eternity is merely a deep aspiration

For the Eternal God

  

Your profound fascination of beauty is purely awe and wonder

Of the One Most Beautiful, God

 

Your appreciation of all creative arts is simply admiration

Of the One Most Creative, God

 

Beware, don’t be distracted by signs on the way

They’re only means to get you by

Don’t mistake them for your aim

Otherwise; your harvest will merely be

Big disappointments and flat empty dreams

A heart full of sorrow confused and jeopardized

Carry on along the path

Your home and final destination

Is the One and Only, God

For… you are God’s very own

Masterpiece

74243_421982971203097_383839388_n

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