Breaking Dawn

Let the leaf fall

Hold it back not

This is only the start

Of a new epoch 

Hear voices of birds

Ignore snakes

Can a snake fly ?

Only birds can

Set aside and watch

How everything goes

Always according to plan

Destiny

You can’t hide from

Destiny you cannot escape

Must take that road

A one way street

Let The must 

Scare you not

For it will

Give you the need

And the need 

Will someday 

Be what you want

Close your eyes and believe

Tomorrow will bring

A brighter dawn

Tomorrow will be 

The start of something new

Tomorrow’s night will not 

But make you feel alive

Better yet

Free 

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In Gaza

In Gaza, I heard a sound

In Gaza, I heard a boom

Not sure what it was

But obviously people knew

Another raid

Another bomb

Another child

Another burning mom

Black fog spread

Couldn’t breathe

Couldn’t see

Mother, mother

A child kept calling

A fearful voice

A trembling one

Like when had broken a vase

Mother, mother

Come back to me

The voice faded

The mom died

That’s the everyday life

Of a Palestinian

In Gaza

His Gaza

Our Gaza

A boom

A kiss

A goodbye

My Lavender

Thou art yellow

Why?

I wonder

Has the sun reflected on you

Its rays of silver?

Such a beautiful face

Must not cry any longer

Sunny day be, so bright

Not winter

Tears should not

Ruin such beautiful weather

I cannot handle

Seeing you so, my lavender

Thine eyes are so colorful

I look at them and see rainbows

So pretty

So innocent

Make them last forever

Poor heart

My heart is

Can’t but seek for a whisper

Mesmerized by your twinkle

Hypnotized by your laughter

You chased away

All the sanity in me

Took my breath away

And left me with a prayer

I each day pray

For you I wish

A happily ever after

A fairy tale

That never seems will  happen

 

64 Years Have Passed and Another 64 Years Ahead.

I was walking down the hill, where my father first took me for a trip, when I heard some gun shots. I ran to the house but I was minutes late. Everybody had been shot dead, and the one or those who have shot them were not there. I took an oath that once I am old enough, I will have my revenge. Every day passed I got angrier and the urge for revenge became more and more. I became 20 years old, 25, 37, 48 and now am 64 and still have not fulfilled that feeling. However, I raised my children on the fact that their family was murdered and revenge must be taken. I did something, I trained them, I worked hard on uniting them and carved in their skins and bone the smell of that breeze on that hill. They lined up against each other, they became more interested in the hill as a place to use for their business instead of wanting to have it back, they have forgotten their dead family and dying one and I must say how fearful I have become. It has been a while since they have died, but how can it possibly be to want the riches of a land but not free it first? How can it possibly be to fight over the throne and not fight for the people? 64 years, and not until the revenge is fulfilled I am still growing old. 64 years have passed and more 64 will unless they decide to line up together against the outsiders\the intruders. It’s in their hands now whether to fight or to keep on sleeping. 

Stolen Memories\ A thank You Letter

” Mom, please, please, please, can I go with dad to work?”
“Dad, come on we are late; lets go”
“Dad, how did you first meet mom?”
“Dad, can you drive me to my friend’s house?”
“Yes, dad”
“But dad!”
“Fine, dad”

Well, I don’t know who my father is or was. I don’t know how he sounds like, I don’t know how he smells, walks, talks, drinks and looks like. Forgive me, the verbs are in the wrong tense- sounded, smelled, walked, talked, drank and looked like. Simple words you use everyday; simple sentences you never take your time to think of. I don’t remember ever calling my father “dad”. I have asked my mother couple of times if I could talk before he died. She said yes. But what’s the use if I don’t remember hearing his voice calling my name? or my voice calling his? I was a year and a half- now I am eighteen- when they shot him dead. They shot him in the head. He was in his car going home after a visit he paid with his friends to another friend of theirs. It was the third day of Eid El Feter. Yes, it was Eid. All his friends survived. He died. His friend once told me that they heard some gun shots and dad asked them all to bow their heads and so they all did – He was a headmaster originally a chemistry teacher- he told me that after few gun shots, my father sat straight and said ” Are you okay, guys? ” and that was the last thing he ever said. Every birthday I had, I waited by the door. I always imagined him knocking on the door. I always thought maybe he fell in a comma and woke up without remembering anything. Foolishly, ’till this day I sometimes think of such possibilities. I always hoped to dream about him. Yet, not even once I did. I had nothing to dream of. He was a ghost, a tale, a picture hanged on the wall. I share blood with him, but I don’t really know him. All thanks goes to the occupation, AKA israel. Thank you for stealing the joy of seeing pride in his eyes when finished highschool, thank you for stealing my father and daughter dance,thank you for killing a complete innocent man, thank you for the bullet you shot him in the head- and I thank the factory that made it and the one who bought it, thank you for the memories I don’t have, thank you for being a peace maker, thank you for killing my people so your people would live and thank you for everyday I wake up and go to my mom room and see an empty space next to her. Be proud of yourself, you won the prize of the best killing machine. I must beg you however not to hate me when say : I hate you. Hating you is the least thing I can do. The very least thing. Thank you.

My Flower, My Land, My Mother

A single flower

with yellow leaves

So bright it stands

Refuses to weep

Embracing the shadows of trees

Swaying with the wind

and a bee

And there it falls leaf after leaf

With the breeze forcing them

to fall far away

from their mother tree

But they try to flee

From a destiny written back in years

What a harsh weather

Clouds that play hide-and-seek

With the sun rays

But the flower refuses to bend and sways

The language of roses

I have been learning for years

Not even once

Have I understood what they say or speak

Yet sometimes I feel their sadness or joy

And sometimes I get lost in the interpretations of their words

I always sense their emotions

Like a mother that lost a son in the womb

or another after birth

People come, steal them and kick her out

When everything stands in her way like a wall

That’s how my flower feels

When she loses a leaf after another ..

She dies,

She bleeds ..

By: Nour Osama El Borno