A different joy

Sparrows are bells strung
In the unending celebration
Hidden in the wind.

And the wind recites
A thousand pages,
Of a thousand olive trees.

And the olive trees
Drink the sweat
Of my father.

And he holds me.
In his arms still…
As the arms of Palestine.


So I wrote this very briefly and didnt think to revise it. It was a result of happiness and relief I felt so briefly in this valley of our struggling reality. Its free as verse gets, and I really like it, Id like to think of it as an entire moment of confession and submission to the honesty of joy.  But you may think what kind of joy is this, this joy is hope. So, I hope you enjoy it 🙂

This is a picture of hope I took on the wall in the  West Bank.Image

Songbirds of the Mountains

Water  whistles upon my lips
Like songbirds from the mountain
That make their seldom trips
When thick clouds surround them.

When all leave into their homes,
Birds settle amongst a land alone,
And their song on what war exhumes…
Untill earthen clouds fall undone.

The bird,as i drink, hovers…
My eyes are closed and yours
Teach me unlike the others…
As gossip on a summers’ doors.

I open my eyes and then I hear
The dry whisper of almond trees.
I should not wait long here
Hope is little, and mountains near.

Their song has settled there,
In mountains, in war hidden.
So they return and lift their
Song,the land, were it has fallen.