My Beloved has Many Faces

In the eyes of a Jerusalemite child, I saw the face of my beloved

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(LONDON) - How constant must the call for freedom in Palestine be? How much longer, how much louder must this voice grow? For what length of time do the poets have to write verse? How many images of tragedy must the photographers capture before somebody says 'enough'? How many friends have to die? How many innocents?

These are the nagging questions that never go away, never find their answers. Is money the enemy? Greed? Religion?

Or is it just that people don't have enough courage to speak absolute truth and do what is right. I suspect that is more the case.

While their taxes and their military programs exterminate the Palestinian population, purging it from ancient villages their ancestors held, Americans and Israelis live in great comfort while Palestinians exist as prisoners on small sections of a great nation that once was.

However thievery does not equate to real ownership regardless of what anyone says... and therefore Palestine is still Palestine and Israel is not a legitimate government.

That is bad enough, but the constant ethnic cleansing that has taken place since 1948 for which Israel has never adequately been sanctioned, makes the crimes inflicted in the Palestinians monstrous in nature. They never forget. -
the Editor

In Palestine, I saw the most beautiful;

بياع باب العمود

Awestruck, I forget to ask his name

or even take his picture

But, if dignity has a name, it will be his

If purity has a form, it will be his eyes

He sold very few ka'ak كعك بسمسم that day

The leftover pile was hard and dry

When I asked the price, eager to sell, he said: "one shaykel each, instead of three"

"Give me four, please and keep the change" I said

Blushing

"I cannot accept that, mama" he said

"Mama, I am your son, how do you want me to do that?" he said

"But you hardly sold anything, my son" perplexed I replied

"Allah is the Provider, don't worry mama;

We worry not, some days are good and others not;

But we're always grateful no matter what;

Welcome to Al-Quds, I am your son mama"

he said with a heart-melting smile

Eyes moist, heart-wrenched, wonder struck

Leaving my soul behind

I walked away

In the eyes of a Jerusalemite child, I saw the face of my beloved

In Palestine, I saw the most beautiful;

عائلة الوهباني

If nobility has a name, it will be theirs

If kindness has a form, it will be their eyes

Seven sisters, three brothers, a mum and a dad and an orange farm

Shoved away by some"chosen" few

A tiny room in Ramleh town became their home

Their farm turned into a prison

Some years past by

The boys and girls grow up, got married
and had children of their own

The children spoke of justice,

They sang for freedom and Liberation

Infuriated, the "chosen" few threw them in prison
which was once their orange farm

The children smiled and said:

“Our hearts, our souls, our blood… we sacrifice for you, our beloved”

In the eyes of Ramleh children, I saw the face of my beloved

In Palestine, I saw the most beautiful;

محمد بركات

If majesty has a name, it will be his

If heroism has a form, it will be his eyes

His name is very common in Palestine

But he is no ordinary man

Before Muhammed, I stood in silence

Before Muhammed, I bowed down

Captive in his Homeland

Captive in his village

Captive in his body

Borders, barbed-wire, checkpoints, walls and a wheelchair

Is all what's around

But

"Disabled without Borders" is his child

His wings flutter above and touch the sky

In his wheelchair he travels the world

Telling the story to those who care

In the eyes of quadriplegic Muhammed, I saw the face of my beloved

In Palestine, I saw the most beautiful;

عائلة أم صبحي

If elegance has a name, it will be hers

If grace has a form, it will be her eyes

Um Subhi was her name

Mother of four

One pearl and three gems

One princess and three knights

Every knight had his share

In the dungeons of the “chosen”

Their bodies tasted torture

Yet in their hearts angels whispered

Compassion, tenderness and eloquence

Their actions spoke of wonders

Courage, altruism, steadfastness and modesty

Zenith of moral splendour

In the eyes of Um Subhi family, I saw the face of my beloved

My beloved has many faces

My beloved is beautiful

BUT

One spooky night while in slumber

Nightmare-ogres found their way out

From all four corners they crept in

Marching beasts of wrath and doom

Spewing terror... gathering decadence

Tightened grip of monstrous tentacles

Bashing and lashing to squeeze her life out

My beloved still resisting while people are asleep

Deep inside her soul rivers of mercy flow

kindness still grows and dignity stands tall

My beloved has many faces

My beloved is beautiful

--

“To smile when confronted with the most severe oppression, is an act of Resistance rooted in unparalleled beauty.”

~ Jonathan Azaziah

my homeland with Zionist colonizers"

~ Reham Alhelsi

"Facts" do NOT need laws to enforce, validate or defend them, what they require is research to examine their narrative and correct it for better accuracy and understanding.

“When a man who is honestly mistaken hears the truth, he will either cease being mistaken, or cease being honest.”