A picture of Ram Allah



A picture of Ram Allah

I asked Ashraf who was only five
To draw a nice picture
Of his beautiful town
Ram Allah
Just for me
So I can remember
as he came to visit me
only for a while
He picked up a pencil
And a small piece of paper
And started drawing
Using no colour
Only black and white
Then he sat with me
And explained
All about his picture
What is what
And who is who
This was the picture
Of his little town
Ram Allah 

 

Oh mighty Israhell


 

Oh mighty Israhell

With the mountains of lies you fabricate

Do you think you could

Secure a fear-free moment akin to my years?

No… you can’t

 

With the lavish wealth you generate

Do you think you could

Buy a few joyful days similar to mine

No… you can’t

 

With all the armed robberies you facilitate

Do you think you could

Steal one magnificent dream that I embrace?

No… you can’t

 

With the mighty power you accumulate

Do you think you could

Obtain a piece of peace that fills my soul?

No… you can’t

 

Oh poor mighty Israhell

What have you done?

Wake up… wake upwake up

 

Wait no longer… just … come running

Rinse your sins

Wash the blood off your hands

Repentant… and on your knees fall to the ground and… pray

 

Then… I promise

I’ll do what the prophet did

In your ear I’ll whisper

“Now I forgive you

You are free

The treasure I hold

I am willing to share”

 

22-05-2006

© Copyright 2006 Nahida Izzat  -PoetryforPalestine – All Rights Reserved 

Lovers don’t


 

Lovers don’t rape

Jerusalem

Sweet Jerusalem

What did they do to you!

Claiming your love

But cause you none

But sorrow and pain

 

Jerusalem

Sweet Jerusalem

I heard you crying that night

Your frail beautiful frame

Shaking… aching… diminishing…

Your sad eyes avoiding mine

 

Jerusalem

Sweet Jerusalem

I want to crawl towards you…

To kiss the aromatic scent

 Of your ancient alleyways

Fall on my knees… repenting…

At Damascus gate

 Howling

I failed you… I let you down

 

Jerusalem

Sweet Jerusalem

I want to embrace

That blue stripy dress of yours

 Burry my face… burry my shame

Weeping

Asking your forgiveness

I’ve witnessed the crime

 

Jerusalem

Sweet Jerusalem

I want to kneel down

Put my arms around you

Caress your weary brow

And murmur

Sorry my dearest

I am sorry sweetheart

 

Jerusalem

Sweet Jerusalem

I want to untangle your jet black hair

Comb your gorgeous curls

Adorn your plaits with rainbow ribbons

And whisper… habeebetee

 You look stunning today

Habeebetee… now show me

Your most charming… much missed smile

 

05-06-2006

 © Copyright 2006 Nahida Izzat  -PoetryforPalestine – All Rights Reserved

The Two-Letter Word


 

The Two-Letter Word 

Did you know

That sometimes doing nothing is a Crime ??

 Sometimes thinking nothing is a crime ??

Sometimes feeling nothing is a crime ?? 

 Sometimes saying nothing is a crime ??

For … oppression thrives on silence

A dignified stand -then- can be ever so grand

A brave wise decision would be an inspired vision

A righteous feeling of sadness or anger

Can out-weigh joy delight and wonder

A two-letter word then can be stronger than a sword

 

 When JUSTICE is slaughtered and oppression prevails

When evil is OK and Satan glorified

When GOD finds no room in His children’s hearts 

We have to be prepared then… if only just to say

The two-letter word ! ! ! 

NO

 

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
 
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