Mohammed Al Durra

Mahmoud Darwish

nestles in the bosom of his father, a bird afraid 
of the infernal sky: father protect me 
from the upward flight! My wing is 
slight for the wind … and the light is black 
wants to return home, with no 
bicycle ... or new shirt 
yearns for the school bench … 
the notebook of grammar and conjugation, take me 
to our home, father, to prepare for my lessons 
to continue being, little by little … 
on the seashore, under the palms … 
and nothing further, nothing further 
faces an army, with no stone or shrapnel 
of stars, does not notice the wall to write: my freedom 
will not die, for he has no freedom yet 
to defend. No perspective for the dove of Pablo 
Picasso. He continues to be born, continues
to be born in a name bearing him the curse of the name. How 
many times will his self give birth to a child 
with no home ... with no time for childhood? 
Where will he dream if the dream would come … 
and land is a wound ... and a temple? 
sees his inescapable death approaching. But then 
remembers, a leopard he has seen on the tv screen, 
a fierce one besieging a suckling fawn. When it 
came near and smelt the milk, it would not pounce. 
As if the milk tames the wild beast. 
Hence, I will survive - says the boy - 
and weeps: for my life is there hidden 
in my mother's chest. I will survive ... and witness 
a destitute angel, within a stone's throw from 
the gun of his cold blooded hunter. For 
an hour the camera traces the movements of the boy 
who is merging with his shadow: 
his face, clear, like dawn 
his heart, clear, like an apple 
his ten fingers, clear, like candles 
the dew clear on his trousers … 
His hunter could have reflected 
twice, and say: I will spare him till when he spells 
his Palestine without mistakes ... 
I will spare him now subject to my conscience 
and kill him the day he rebels! 
an infant Jesus, sleeps and dreams in 
the heart of an icon 
made of copper 
an olive branch 
and the soul of a people renewed 
blood beyond the need of the prophets 
for what they seek, so ascend 
to the Ultimate Tree 
Mohamed !

About Admin

Youth's poetry ignites my quest, Against oppression, I protest. In Palestine's struggle, voices rise, For freedom, peace, justice, my cries.
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