Bed & Home

(by Saed J. Abu-Hijleh, Nablus, Palestine, July 15, 2008)

In communion with the One
that created the 100 billion galaxies
containing hundreds of billions of stars;
In the presence of the One that heals
all wounds that turn into scars:

Only He can hear my voice in the place
Where my dreams begin and end,
Where my face is not shown
under embroidered covers
in my sacred bed
in the darkness of moonless nights
before or after the soldiers
enter my neighborhood or the refugee camp
across the hill.

*******

My home is the dream of my Dad,
the place in which I am sane or
when I am mad
without anyone seeing me
except the One that sees all.

My home is Love and the product of Love;
my neighbors are imperfect angels
who care about me
and want me to get married
and settle down
and stop being an international clown.

My home is in fifteenth street
in a city that lies between two mountains
channeling the breeze of the Mediterranean
to eastern dry lands
of prophets and nomads.

My home is under a dome
of mystic words
on the path of Sufi masters
to the land of bliss
where love burns all sins…

Snapshot!

by Saed J. Abu-Hijleh, Nablus, Palestine, July 14, 2008

He snapped his fingers and the other one shot,
All of what it is became what is not,
Love became hate, life became death,
As Mother of All let out her last breath…
All of humanity froze,
The "Iron Fist" killed the most beautiful rose…
A surgeon of Ear, Throat, and Nose,
Stood by and watched the love of forty years
End in a river of tears…

+++++++

A shooting star is quite far
Yet it makes the heart move
With hope
With desire…
How can a distant fire
Calm the fire inside?!
How can a single fish bring down the tide?

No where to hide
Time to respond:
Close your eyes
Count to seven
A 'shooting heart'
From earth to heaven.

+++++++

He shook my hand for the first time
Few of his fingers were missing
Compensated by a beautiful smile
The kind that makes you go the extra mile…

A year later his arm was missing
The beautiful smile remained
The more he lost
The more we gained!

Fadi is now all missing
Entered earth on a journey
To the other side
But he left his smile engraved on my mind...

Poetry !

I write to tell my soul that you have the possibility of not being alone. I write to allow my inner voice to come out, so I can see it, touch it, and maybe understand it. I write so as to feel the limits of my being and to see where it intersects with other beings, somewhat like Venn diagrams. I write to allow the air to come in to my hidden wounds to avoid spiritual gangrene. I write to find love; to find my soul mate…

It happened for the first time almost thirty years ago, at the age of 11. I was laying in my bed just about to sleep, and then suddenly sat and received few words. I say 'received' because I am not sure I had total control over the process that brought these words to my tongue and lips:

I will read and dissolve in the meaning of reading,
I will write and dissolve my ideas in the tunes of my poetry,
And I will sing for the joyful nightingale to forget my sorrows…
And I will be happy for death is the wedding of every human being…

It felt good, magical, unexplainable… where exactly did these words come from, and how did they surface or appear suddenly to the realm of consciousness…

Now after so many years, I say that these words were brought to me by the flicker of wings of a mystical butterfly, and my young soul resonated with the waves…

Many things happened since then… and I moved from the land of boyhood to the domain of men… too soon I must add,
And events that occurred almost made me mad…
Three bullets hit me when I was fifteen,
The pain was unbearable,
Difficult for you to know what I mean…
I was tortured on my wounds when I was sixteen,
They whipped with electrical wiring,
Put me in a room full of sewage,
But I came out clean!

Many things happened since then, in the 70s, 80s, 90s, and in 2010...
The future is already here…
This might sound crazy or queer…
I write to calm my fear
Of history repeating itself,
And that I won't have enough stitches for new wounds,
Or strong legs faster than bullets,
And seconds that last longer than minutes…!

A State of Love

One state, two states, or no state,
Zionism, what a fate...
They caught the bait, and continued the hate,
Can they keep this rate... of ethnic cleansing!

Israel the "Jewish State", 60 years too late...
In the Middle East "the only democracy",
What a hypocrisy!
Can't they see our blood filling the Jordan River?
A wound oozing forever!

A State of Love the only solution,
Yes we say to spiritual cleansing,
No we say to ethnic cleansing,
"All in and no one out" at the top of my lungs I shall shout...
Refugees must come back, a just society with no doubt.

One State, No hate,
A State of Love,
Blessed from the above...
The children dance, happy in a trance,
This is our last chance...

Shadow of an olive tree....

I am a Shadow of an olive tree
On the land of thee
I am waiting for you to come to me
I then shall cease to be
Remember me my love, remember me...

Sixty Years and Counting!

Commemorating sixty years of the Palestinian Nakba (catastrophe)(1948-2008)

Sixty years and counting,
Anger in my being is mounting.

Sixty years and counting,
The child in me is shouting:
I want to run, to fly, to sing, to cry,
To walk, talk, write on the blackboard with a chalk:
"End this bloody occupation..."

Sixty years and counting!
Nablus the city of goodness,
A wounded witness to this “bloody occupation...”

No need for wake up calls,
The tanks come on time,
Go on time,
And leave you no time to plan your time…
But can these tanks kill the thyme… of Ebal and Jirzim?

Kneel to these monsters they tell us everyday,
But only to Allah we kneel when we pray,
Another sixty thousand years will not change what I say.

Tanks do not grow on mountains but olives do.
Tanks do not grow on mountains but Palestinians do.
I am an olive and my blood is oil,
My flesh is this sacred soil,
My breath the wind of the Mediterranean,
My eyes make the sea blue.

Sixty years and the fascist can go to hell,
The mosque will say Allah Akbar,
The Church will ring its bell.