Letter from Palestine
6:49 am in my Palestinian home
I was hiding under my bed,
Ammi (mother) held me tight;
We were playing Hide and seek.
We played this All my Childhood.
We started early in the morning,
Post Azan,
bright flares in the sky,
a "Boom" later,
the game began.
6:49 am in my childhood bedroom,
On Fridays, the monster always came nearby.
I felt the trembles
And dusty brown clouds entered through the study window.
ammi always asked me to close my eyes.
She said,
You will die if the monster sees you.
So, he will never be seen by you.
I Believed her.
Later in the noon, we used to go to Asqa Masjid,
For our Namaz.
I saw
Broken Bricks, debris, and demolished glass.
People,
Shouting, crying and covered in blood.
Ammi used to wrap her arms around my head
As we walked past them.
On our way back,
She used to warn me about the consequences,
Of seeing the monster.
6:49 am in my childhood bedroom,
I was 8
Under the bed, was our new tent home.
There was no more play in the morning,
She used to make me study,
Mathematics, English words and Urdu Poems
For hours.
She used to whisper when I was asleep,
“This is not what you deserve.
There is a life without the monster.”
6:49 am in my childhood bedroom,
It was my 12th birthday
I saw debris and blood outside.
the dust clouds filled my room
The trembling is under my feet,
Ammi clenched me tight,
She was sweating a lot I remember
I think the monster is nearby.
I wanted to see it,
my birthday gift arrived,I thought.
I imagined it to be a alligator like creature
With giant feet, and a breath of fire.
We heard noises,
As dust settled in
I could see a big scattered shadow.
My mother was in tears.
She wrapped my head with her robe.
sneaking my eyes out I saw it at last.
But there were many!
Human sized black shadows.
With guns like Rambo had,
Ammi picked me and turned
facing the wall,
I was hustling to see the guns
As I turned
I felt a splash of blood.
ammi’s head was leaking
And she fell over me !
I froze under
Ammi’s body,
For Four Full days.
I am 20 today
6:49 pm in my childhood bedroom is history.
I sit in my dorm in Germany,
Safe as my ammi once whispered.
I see this poetry competition
I thought about writing on love, heartbreak,
the warm summer breeze
But I wish I could.
All I remember is despair, violence, sacrifice, fear and injustice,
So how can I write about good:
when the evil needs knowing!
Once a victim itself,
Their lust for power and hunger to oppress grew upon
And
Made them a monster to us.
Such a irony!
7 am in my dorm bunker bed,
I miss you ammi,
I crawl under my bed to build your memory,
To remember your sleeping face
For you to come and hold my head
.
.
and whisper me hope…
But All I can do is write this thought on a memory envelope to you.
अब हाथ में तेरा हाथ नहीं
पर ख्याल में तेरा साथ सही।
आज दरिया के उस पार तुम खड़ी तो हो
पर उस पार जो तैर जाएं
मुझमें उतनी ताकत नहीं।
अब हाथ में तेरा हाथ नहीं
पर ख्याल में तेरा साथ सही।
