POEMS
BY
ZEINAB HABASH
I
Am
Upon
reaching my 14th year, I
wrote the following in my daily diary:
I was nothing, became
something, but will be everything
Who
am I?
What
am I?
Two
grand questions overwhelm the calm fire of my
life
For
I am, whom I am
I
am this vast sky
With
open arms to embrace all the birds in flight
I
am this ocean with all its treasures
And
this earth with all its magic and mystery
I
am the sun , I am the moon.
I
shrink,
And
transform into a dew drop
Glistening
on the crown of a violet bloom
I
expand,
And
pluck the stars with ease
I
am everything I conceive
And
everything I will conceive
Everything
I conceive in wakefulness
Everything
I conceive in sleep
Everything
I conceive in truth
Everything
I conceive in fantasy
I
am all those whom I love
And
all those
I
will love
I
am all the towns I visited
And
all the towns I will visit
My
eyes see all existence
My
arms embrace the universe
My
heart grows to hold the world
All
these trees are mine
And
all these song birds
Are
singing for me
Whenever
I shut the door behind me
When
I leave my home
The
doors of ultimate happiness and freedom are open
for me
And
when I return
The
door becomes happy
And
the flowers in my garden, which I irrigate each
morning
Are
so jubilant
At
my return .
When
I enter my home
I
enter my small paradise
Yes
For
home is my small paradise
In
it I listen to sweet music
In
it I draw a Homeland and color it to my taste
In
it I create dreams and trees and poems and
legends
In
this small paradise
I
feet God has created the whole universe
For
me
I
humbly stand, at the threshold of the Creator
In
my pure white clothes
I
thank Him for innumerable blessings
And
recite His words, which are above all other words
I
feel Im close to Him
And
Hes close to me
My
heart then is full with peace and happiness
So
that if I open my eyes
The
world
All
the world
Will
drown in them
This
is who I am
And
what I am
Is
it true I am all this?!!!
How
wonderful!!
Zeinab Habash July
25,2001
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A love
song to the Snow
Oh Pure white
The Purity of angels
Laughing as children
Grand as a brides gown
Wonderful as a poem
Fragile as the grip of a childs
hand
Conquering as judgment
Exceptional as a jasmine flower
Elegant as a lily
Graceful as a ballerina
Alert as a candle!
In you I see my most beautiful dreams
And my innocent love
I see the glimmer of happiness in my
eyes
And the mythical portraits of wonderful
art
I see persons and forms and flowers
I see birds and gardens
As if I live in another world!
Am I dreaming?
Or am I hovering in the seventh sky?!
As if I stand at the thrones
doorsteps
And see the light of God
And the Creators greatness
I see Gods power
And feel His gentleness, His wisdom and
His kindness
And see His smile, like no other
I wish I can hold on to you
And hold you to my bosom
I wish I savor your taste
And clean my heart with your purity
I wish you permeate every cell of my
soul
And create in my heart, love, happiness
and life
I wish I sleep on your feathered pillows
And cover my body with your white sheet
And gather the warmth of your downy fur
Everything subjugates to you
Everything receives you with love, like
no other love
The Earth hugs you with her arms
The trees surrender to you
The flowers close their eyes and slumber
in your lap
The walls call upon you to ascend them
with your integrity
And the streets give alone, the right of
way
Everything gives itself to you
Are you the eternal love?
Oh You, White as a lovers steed
Let me ride your horseback
Rush me to the unknown fields
Take me to your bewitched forests
Float me in the world of poetry
Sing to me the song of innocence
And let me hear your sweet music
That refreshes the soul
Oh You, gentle as a butterfly
To You, I afford my life
Absorb her nectar
And make her a part of You
Oh You, divine blessing
Quickly sprawl on all quarters of our
motherland
And transform into fresh water
For the people of Palestine
Are so thirsty for water
So thirsty for happiness
So thirsty for freedom
And here you have come to us
Possessing everything we need.
Zeinab Habash
|
Mohammad Al-Dura
It is so
without
any retouches
Mohammad Al-Dura
This beautiful dark child,
transforms,
Into the entire motherland
Whenever I see you, Mohammad,
Writhing in pain
Trying to shrink your small body
So that the bullets of death do not
strike you,
I cry
Whenever I see you crying
For help from your father
Who is transformed into a statue,
Of absolute failure,
I cry
Whenever I see your mother
Choking on her tears
As Virgin Mary did
As she cradled her child,
Her own flesh and blood,
I cry
Whenever I see your pearly tears
Spill from your beautiful eyes
I cry
Whenever I see your head fall
Onto your fathers chest,
I cry
Whenever I see your tiny hand
Wipes up the tears that have poured,
On your wrinkled face,
I cry
Whenever I see your body
Sprawled in the dust,
And grows and grows before my very eyes,
I cry
You have grown, Mohammad
To the size of our motherland
And your small body
Blankets the whole of Palestine
And your innocent blood
Which like a waterfall
Flooded upon the earth
Caused the drowning of our motherland
From Sea to River
From Ras Al-Naqurah to Rafah
I did not grieve for your martyrdom
But for the way you were martyred,
At high noon,
In view of every human on earth
Isn't this what happened to all of us,
In the past?!
Isn't this what is happening to all of us,
every day?!
Isn't this what will happen to all of us,
In the future?!!
The whole world watches us
While we are killed in cold blood
In all the previous massacres
In all the massacres that are happening now
And in all the massacres that will happen in
the future.
Your father is a powerless man
Without ability and without strength.
He even waved his paralyzed arms
Begging the killer
To stop the murder of his beloved boy!
Whenever I see you, Mohammad
I cry for me
For You Are Me!
You are all my family!
And you are all Palestinians in this
universe!
Whenever I see your father
I cry for all the Arabs
Who though love us very much
But are so powerless
To lift the injustice that engulfs us
Whenever I see the free people of the world
Support us
I cry and cry for all the human values
Which are erased with a tiny eraser
Called the American Veto
By Zeinab Habash©November 7, 2000
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Jamal al-Durra hands his day-old son, Mohammed to Amal,
his wife ; the baby is named after his brother who was
killed in 2000
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