Crystal Library
A library of crystal
Where the sun shines calm & still
For laughter like an apple
And for her fair head resting
Against my shoulder
She turns to me, and says
You must learn to relax.
And then – What is love
But small-talk.
And I say,
But small talk makes me feel small.
So she says,
Then write!
And write in CAPITALS!
Will that make me feel tall?
She laughs, and says no.
That’s a joke.
So I laugh.
Don’t you know how to be human?
I did once – that was a long time ago when I climbed walls and flew paper planes and watched the red glow of my blood in the night and then flung the torch light to the bright moon and the bright moon shone back.
And then I caged my heart,
And opened my mouth.
She looks at me.
Or my heart was caged.
When you fall, she says.
I will catch.
Then she adds,
Write from where you are,
From your heart,
For your heart has always been warm.
Your heart won’t enslave you
But your mind and your eyes might.
And then – turning serious
She asked – am I thy love?
And I said yes, our hearts are tied.
In your tender dew I came alive.
Lies Inc.
Towards the flame you fly
Drawn by the story, the hype
Virtue, they say, is its own reward
Then when the going gets tough
They stab you in the back
Time after time
Suicide, cancer
And the rotting of the mind
They smile at their guile
And laugh at your lack of spies
Then you are exhibit A
Pinned down
Like a fly
In the centre of a web
Nothing is true
For everything now is a lie
Telemachus
Orphan boy
You watch the great waters
For a sign
Sailor he says,
Is there any news of my father?
My mother pines
And our home is without a guardian
And forty men sup and dine
They eat up all our substance
They are the wolfish kind
Nothing they do comes to any good
Our house comes to ruin
Athena, for it was she
Hidden in sailors garb
Looked at him with her calm grey eyes
I came from a land distant and far
They say that he fought armies single-handed to a standstill
And bewitched by sirens
He slept under a moon-lit dream
But his heart aches for Ithaca
Land of his fathers
There he was born
Now he sails to you
On the foam flecked seas
Sailor, says Telemachus again
Will you stay, will you rest?
You have your father’s manners
But I cannot rest
My ship sails tomorrow
But bring me a laurel wreath
To lay at the goddess’s feet
And we will chant a hymn
Rouzans Song
Introduction
This is a poem about a young Palestinian nurse who was killed during the Great March of Return in Gaza.
As Salaam al-Alaikum
My name is Rouzan al-Najjar
From Khuzaa in Gaza
I am a daughter of men
And a daughter of Palestine
My father is Ashraf al-Najjar
And my mother Sabreen al-Najjar
I am the eldest of six
And I am a medic
When I was young
We slept as one family
In one bed
Tallest to shortest
Eldest to youngest
All of us here are Najjars
We fled Salamah by Jaffa
The day of our Nakba
And the day of our tears.
And though we dried them,
We remembered.
This is a burning land
An enclosed land
A land under siege
Our land is a blister
But the sea breeze still swings
Through my hair
And the oranges from Jaffa
Are sweet to my tongue
As his looks are
Our Nakba has not ended
It blasts us here still
Khuzaa is now buried
It’s buildings bull-dozed
There was a battle here
And I saw my friend torn apart
Her blood wetting the dust
Amongst the dead and dying
In the streets.
I dried my tears
And I commended her to Allah.
My father sheltered me
And I grew up as slender as a rose
My laughter was as the bubbling brook
When my mother’s face would darken
I would move worlds
It was not in their shadows
That I lived
But in their light
I do not whisper
And nor do I shout
With my friends
There is laughter
There is talk
And there are jealousies
I was as a lily amongst the thorns
I said to my friends, smiling
Perhaps I will become a shaheed
And then they frowned and said
Do not seek martyrdom
For Allah does not love those
Who martyr themselves.
And I replied,
I do not seek martyrdom
I seek to add my voice
To a just cause
And my hands
And my song.
For all women are my sisters
As all men are my brothers
Our neighbour is not a stranger
And to the stranger we offer
Our olives and our bread
We are beset by perils
And all paths are perilous.
This is a land beloved
By two people
For the land loved them both
And pledged its troth
But we are walled off
From each other
Who is the groom?
And who is the bride?
And where is the wedding?
I hear only voices crying
In the wilderness
And they said,
We commend you to Allah.
He said, she did not know us
But she treated us like we were
Her own brothers
She was as a dove to our sorrows
I am a difference
And aim to make a difference
My blood be upon it
I said to my father,
Give me away
And he said,
I will not give you away
You are my only daughter
And I said to my father again,
Give me away
And he said,
I will not give you away
You are my light
In this darkness
Because of you
There is warmth
Then I said to my father,
I have listened to thy words
And it is to thy words I hearken
Call me not a rebellious daughter
Who makes an ornament
Of herself
But obedient
And I said to my father a third time,
Give me away
And he said, I give you to life
Allah will shelter you
As He has sheltered me
And you will be
The daughter of men
I taught myself as Allah had taught me
I taught myself by the light of a kerosene lamp
I bandaged the wounds of my friends – and of my foes
I was as swift as a gazelle
Amongst the rocks
I was as a lily amongst the thorns
And they called me a lioness
Amongst the lions.
And they said, I was reckless
Then they cautioned,
Your first priority is your own self, and the safety of your own self. This path is perilous. It is beset by perils. If you live, others will live. But if you die, who will you save then?
They said, bend a little
As the bullet is on its way to you.
I said, the bullet chose me
Because I do not know how to bend
Why should I change? It is not I that should change, but the world.
And they said,
Allah Malik al-Mulk
He said, I hope we do not get shot.
And I said, If I die, then so be it
We die as friends.
But I am no martyr
For I love life
It is as honey to my lips
My lover is my friend
And I am a friend to all lovers
Those who love the wheat of life
I am an army to myself
And the sword to my army
I am my own sword
And offer myself to my own people
When my life ends
Make my life a perfume
For those who know me
And for those who do not.
Wreathe my name in roses
And anoint it with myrrh
Then cast it upon the sea
And commend me to our Lord.
Say, that I was faithful
And say, that I was true.
No, said the wall
Which walls off time
And No said the barbed wire
The watch towers shook their heads, and glared.
She is not the measure of mercy
Nor an angel of mercy though she has the face of an angel.
She was a shield terrorists held in front of them.
She was a bandage that terrorists revived themselves with.
She nurses vipers at her breasts
This is a land of dragons’ teeth.
She did not lead but she was led
To walled up horizons
To a moon locked up in rocks
To a nest of thorns
She is a dead end
That ye should not follow
Bury her name
Forget her face
Remember her shame
Ye are a pathology
We aim to cure
Aye, the medicine is bitter
But ye shall swallow it
Time is on our side
And then all the clocks
In Gaza whirr and clang
And their bells begin to toll
Tomorrow is full of fragments
And doors open and close in the sky
Where our hands cannot reach
Even when we jump
The sky, that is as hard as a wall
There, in the glare of the Israeli sun
Our history is erased
Brick by brick
We bang on the walls because we are suffocating.
We throw stones at the walls because they make us eat bricks.
We set fire to our hearts because once this was a land full of olives.
And the sun shone on all.
O my Friends,
O my Countrymen,
O thou World
Hearken to my plea
And be thou my witness:
Brothers and sisters of my heart, children of the sun, listen not ye to the whisperer, he that knots hearts and minds, he that grows within walls and silences, and that makes victims of us all. We are victims of silence and walls but we will not go in silence and we will break down walls, for though we are weary, we are taller than our shadows.
Dedication
Dedicated to the memory of my mother, who could not read English, but would have understood.