Poetry for Palestine

To Abby, I was given permission ages ago from Nahida to post a poem. For re-posting, you will have to go to Palestinian Mothers and ask Nahida for permission. I cannot give permission as I did not write it and do not own the copyrights to it. Cheers

Today I am posting a poem from a very special Palestinian woman whom I am deeply honoured to know. Her name is Nahida, she has lived in exile for 42 years, having been forced to leave her home at age 7 during the six day war. I have placed a link to her site at the end of the post, you may visit her site to read more of her poetry and writings. She has had two books published.

Hidden dimensions

My first son Hassan
Was born on April the 9th

You might think
So what… why are you saying it
With such a gloomy tune
What is wrong with 9th of April?

You have to be a Palestinian
To understand
For on the 9th of April 1948
The massacre of Deir Yassin
Took place
Where every man women and child
Of that peaceful farming village
Was killed in cold blood
No one survived
Except those
Who pretended to be dead

As we celebrate the birth of a new born
With joy
We mourn and grief
Lost loved ones

In our midst
Nothing comes insular
Nothing is disjointed
No single colours

The fabric of our lives
Makes the most amazing tapestry

If you hold it backwards
Looking at the wrong side
You’ll see a mirror image
Of shades of a blurred picture
With loops… knots and fraying thread
If you turn it over
It looks much neater
But still you can’t actually see
The full picture
Only colours and shadows

But hey… take a little time
And walk backwards
Further back
Look at the tapestry
From a distance

You will be amazed
With its outstanding beauty
All these murky shades
That didn’t make sense to you
Even disturbed you
When you were near

From afar
These dark shadows
Are precisely what makes this piece
So unique
So spectacular

These unfathomable hues
Is what give our life portrait
Its depth
And hidden dimensions

Since that day of 1948
Many… many babies were born
On April the 9th

Our joys are always stained
With hints of sorrow

Our sadness is always coloured
With hues of hope

Without which
The tapestry of our lives
Will never be complete
Won’t be as rich
Or as beautiful

Don’t waist much time
Staring at the wrong side with fury
Turn it over… walk further back… and feel the glory

You may read more of Nahida's work HERE