تضيقُ بِنا الأرضْ تحشُرُنَا في المَمرْ الأخيرْ فَنخلَعُ أعضاءنا كَي نمُر الى أيْنَ نَذهب بَعد الحُدود الأخيرَة؟ أينَ تطير العَصافيرْ بَعْد السَماء الأخيرة؟ أين تنامْ النباتات بعد الهَواءْ الأخير؟ -محمود درويش
Category: prose
نسال الله.
“هل انت موجود؟” سؤال بسيط, اجابته ايماءة بالراس. لكن داذما هناك ما يشذ عن القاعدة[قاعدتي على الاقل], كيف نؤمن بكيان بدون رؤيته. رؤيتي تتسم بالسطحية- سيتهمونني, انه امر روحاني يشعر به الشخص وقت الخوف ووقت التعب. ووجود قوة اكبر منه مسؤولة عن كل ما يحدث. بالرغم من محاولاتي البائسة للبس نظارة الايمان والتطلع الى الحياة… Continue reading نسال الله.
Deir Yassin in disguise
(1) Death throes enclose the atmosphere of Deir Yassin valley; the smell of blood is rooted deeply; 66 years and it hasn’t faded away. A burnt body of a 17 year old boy found in the woods of Deir Yassin, detched brutally. before you know more details; Flash back place: Deir Yassin Time: the 9th… Continue reading Deir Yassin in disguise
To the immortal
a picture on a paper a scent hanging in the horizon countless memories feed me with energy; when you told me to love my land, Loubia when you told me about your brother, and how you saw me in his shoes, and wished that I would achieve what he didn’t had the chance to. To… Continue reading To the immortal
many #Takes
Take #1 Nadeem Noawara- another rose ripped from its roots to wither, to join the bouquet of occupation. Many martyrs have been killed, many forgotten, and many dis-remembered. When death is a permanent resident, when its a rooted deminision like time and space. Whe nthat happens, life becomes naive, it becomes so silly like the… Continue reading many #Takes
My quasar
you’re my quasar; the majestic light that is born from a black hole. – maybe that’s not the the most romantic metaphor to be used, it’s a special one one that fits your rank. after all you’re sitting on the throne of my thinking. it’s born from physics – your realm. from the darkest nights and… Continue reading My quasar
“Life is fragile”
I was watching the documentary -5 broken cameras. When Emad Burnat states that Life is fragile. At that time I didn’t fully percieve what he meant, I remembred martyrs and war and hatred. But it turns out thati had not an inkling of what that could mean. The fragility lies within the simplist act of pursuing… Continue reading “Life is fragile”
Ramallah-Jerusalem bus’s love story
It was a mid-august day, the sun blazing the streets of Ramallah. The usual bustle of cabs rushing to catch the next prey, shop owners screaming for costumers, an old man setting at the side of the street selling hand-made Rebabas, old used books on the side boulder-made-wall. Ramallah, as the cab driver had told… Continue reading Ramallah-Jerusalem bus’s love story
Spaghettifying void
Maybe I should not have chosen this title, since you like physics. I wake up everyday, I’m keeping myself busy, I dodge the ball of your memories deftly. I wake up eager to hear your name, or to see your smile, then the smell of my dad’s ciggarettes and the sound of the washing machine… Continue reading Spaghettifying void
Nakba
it is said that Nakba is the Catastrophe, the catastrophe that fell upon the Palestinian people in 1948 when 531 villages were completely destroyed and about 800 thousand became refugees in neighboring countries. But is it? let me divulge my own definition of Nakba: it is the fact that you have to study in Hebrew… Continue reading Nakba
AICHA BINT YUSIF 