"Every beautiful poem is an act of resistance" - Mahmoud Darwish, 1941-2008

 

As Palestinian and Israeli negotiators continue to engage in a long, difficult dialogue about the final status between Israel and a new Palestinian state, I would like to discuss a very different form of dialogue between the two peoples — the dialogue of poetry. Because behind all the signing of agreements and hand-shaking and posturing and red lines and green lines, there is the bottom line: the emotions and experiences of the people.

I believe that poetry, by its nature, is a form of dialogue, and that poems are attempts to communicate. And in the Palestinian-Israeli arena, the poet’s need to communicate across political and cultural boundaries is particularly intense. Yehuda Amichai has acknowledged: “I have no illusions. It’s quite difficult for poets to communicate with one another in a society that is politically torn apart the way ours is.” Nevertheless, because of the geographical, linguistic, and political barriers inhibiting communication between Palestinians and Israelis, many poets, including Amichai, have used poetry as a means to convey messages to “the other side,” or to explore their feelings about the conflict.

Mahmoud Darwish

 

Ayman Agbaria

(Israel, 1968) 

Debate

— Our bodies are better.
— Our bodies are more precious.
— Our blood is finer.
— Our blood is sweeter.
— Our dead are martyrs, yours are murdered.
— Your dead will become earth, ours will be higher.
— I am the victim and you are the killer.
— I will remain and you will vanish.
Like this, the generals speak
Like this, they debated:
Which is thicker?
The tear of a mother or the powder of a bullet?

***

The late Syrian love poet Nizar Qabbani exemplifies commitment to the Palestinian cause by paying homage to the “boys of the Intifada” in his renowned work of prose and free verse, The Trilogy of the Children of the Stones:

...What matters
about the children of
the stones is that they
have brought us
rain after centuries of
thirst,
brought us the sun after centuries
of darkness,
brought us hope after centuries of
defeat...
...........................................................
...they
have decided to fight
as they wish, live as
they wish, die
as they wish.

O children of Gaza,
teach us some of what you know,
Teach us to be men....

***

Nizar Qabbani

I wept until my tears were dry
I prayed until the candles flickered
I knelt until the floor creaked
I asked about Mohammed and Christ
Oh Jerusalem, the fragrance of prophets
The shortest path between earth and sky
Oh Jerusalem, the citadel of laws
A beautiful child with fingers charred
and downcast eyes
You are the shady oasis passed by the Prophet
Your streets are melancholy
Your minarets are mourning
You, the young maiden dressed in black
Who rings the bells in the Nativity
On Saturday morning?
Who brings toys for the children
On Christmas eve?
Oh Jerusalem, the city of sorrow
A big tear wandering in the eye
Who will halt the aggression
On you, the pearl of religions?
Who will wash your bloody walls?
Who will safeguard the Bible?
Who will rescue the Quran?
Who will save Christ?
Who will save man?
Oh Jerusalem my town
Oh Jerusalem my love
Tomorrow the lemon trees will blossom
And the olive trees will rejoice
Your eyes will dance
The migrant pigeons will return
To your sacred roofs
And your children will play again
And fathers and sons will meet
On your rosy hills
My town
The town of peace and olives.

***

Najwan Darwish

(Palestine, 1978) 

 

JERUSALEM

When I leave you I turn to stone
and when I come back I turn to stone

I name you Medusa
I name you the older sister of Sodom and Gomorrah
you the baptismal basin that burned Rome

The murdered hum their poems on the hills
and the rebels reproach the tellers of their stories
while I leave the sea behind and come back
to you, come back
by this small river that flows in your despair

I hear the reciters of the Quran and the shrouders of corpses
I hear the dust of the condolers
I am not yet thirty, but you buried me, time and again
and each time, for your sake
I emerge from the earth
So let those who sing your praises go to hell
those who sell souvenirs of your pain
all those who are standing with me, now, in the picture

I name you Medusa
I name you the older sister of Sodom and Gomorrah
you the baptismal basin that still burns

When I leave you I turn to stone
When I come back I turn to stone

***

Mahmoud Darwish (13 March 1941-9 August 2008):
O those who pass between fleeting words, 1988: translator unknown

O those who pass between fleeting words
It is time for you to be gone
Live wherever you like, but do not live among us
It is time for you to be gone
Die wherever you like, but do not die among us
............................................................................
So leave our country
Our land, our sea
Our wheat, our salt, our wounds
Everything, and leave
the memories of memory
O those who pass between fleeting words!

***

Al-Qassem’s “Atillu wa Asghu”

We will teach you the art of struggle
and the meaning of battle
and the lesson of peace