* * *
It saddens me to say that Christmas for me, has always been a very sad time never a time of joy, but this year the sadness is particularly overwhelming.
Through out my adult life I have watched people here celebrate the birth of the Palestinian man of peace, who came with the message of peace, in the land of peace, while turning a blind eye to the perpetual crimes committed against him, and against the land of his birth; his homeland has been destroyed, his people dispossessed, maimed and murdered, his message desecrated and trampled on, year after year, decade after decade, without an end in sight.
I am still unable to reconcile the breathtaking beauty of his message with the unimaginable cruelty, complicity or apathy of many his followers.
I still remember weeping often during my children and grandchildren nativities plays, hearing children cheering for Jerusalem or singing Bethlehem, while children of Jerusalem and Bethlehem are shot, bombed and torn to pieces.
Often it felt like either I landed on the wrong planet or I’m living in a parallel universe, no one to talk to and no one even notices my distress and grief, no one cared to ask.
What kept me going is the knowing that if this beloved bighearted rebel, Jesus peace be upon him, was here today, he would be part of our Palestinian resistance.
Un-Merry Christmas for me!
What is going on?
“Hello is this the Christmas Help Line?”
“Yes… good afternoon and merry Christmas
Angela speaking
How can I help you?
Are you feeling lonely today?”
“Absolutely, awfully lonely
And I have a serious problem
Grave one without a doubt
May be you could help… sort me out
People around me are buoyant and joyful
Oblivious to what’s happening
To the precious baby
They’re rejoicing for
Celebrating his birthday
While he’s dying
A thousand deaths a day
Feasting lavishly
Partying like mad
While he’s awaiting starvation
Persecution… torture… humiliation
And targeted assassination
Isn’t that sad
Oh little baby of Nazareth
Can they not sense your pain?
Can they not see you bleeding?
Can they not hear you weeping?
Time and time again
And you, little town of Bethlehem
Can you hear them singing your name?
Do you feel the stabbing of their feet
As they dance over your wounds with glee
While you’re drenched with hurt and shame
Oh little town of Bethlehem
Have they not noticed
The limbless forsaken petrified child
They have made you
As they dragged you into their fantasy fame
Oh wingless heartbroken Jerusalem
Tell me
How can they fail to see your tears?
Are they blissfully ignorant or pretending to be?
Would they pop up their life-bubbles
And face reality
“Dear caller
Who is speaking?
I didn’t catch your name?
Be reassured
It’s all confidential
Every thing you say?”
“Have you heard of Jesus?
I am his mother… who raised him
I am his daughter… who loved him
I am his sister… who held him
I am his friend… who embraced him
I am the fisherman… who fed him
I am the wise-man … who visited him
I am the Shepard… who believed him
I am the disciple… who followed him
I am the Palestinian … who made my heart his home”
“Oh… yes… I see”
“Dear Angela
You know what?
I’ve never had a happy Christmas
Since I was born
Dear Angela
I know that this conversation is not to be disclosed
But I am begging you not to keep it so
Dear Angela… go
Just go
Tell your colleagues
Friends and family
And everyone you know
Tell of my story
Spread every word you’ve heard
Dear Angela
The root of the problem
The cause of my pain
Is that… no body knows
What’s going on
Or do they?
I don’t know
But if they do…
Then…
I really want to know
What’s going on?
Nahida Izzat
Exiled Palestinian
30-09-2006
© Copyright 2006 Nahida Izzat -PoetryforPalestine – All Rights Reserved
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Poetry for Palestine 