{"id":34639,"date":"2024-10-04T11:53:49","date_gmt":"2024-10-04T09:53:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/?p=34639"},"modified":"2024-10-04T12:57:38","modified_gmt":"2024-10-04T10:57:38","slug":"poems-by-nasser-rabah-amanee-izhaq-and-mai-al-nakib","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/poems-by-nasser-rabah-amanee-izhaq-and-mai-al-nakib\/","title":{"rendered":"Poems by Nasser Rabah, Amanee Izhaq and Mai Al-Nakib"},"content":{"rendered":"

A Year<\/span><\/h4>\n

Nasser Rabah<\/span><\/h4>\n

Translated by Wiam El-Tamami<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s been a year since I\u2019ve heard
\n<\/span>singing in the street, seen someone
\n<\/span>dancing at a wedding; a school bus
\n<\/span>coming or going; a flower passed
\n<\/span>from one hand to another.<\/span><\/p>\n

For a year we\u2019ve been passing around
\n<\/span>the hateful cake of war. Not a child
\n<\/span>left out, nor a garden,
\n<\/span>a book, a wish.<\/p>\n

By day, we train our eyes to swim in blood
\n<\/span>and not get wet. We train them to miscount
\n<\/span>our missing limbs. At night, we train them
\n<\/span>to light up the sorrow, to ignite a fire
\n<\/span>in the timber of waiting.<\/span><\/p>\n

For a year, nothing has happened,
\n<\/span>And not a single thing has stopped happening\u2014<\/p>\n

Come, death, open your eyes wide:
\n<\/span>We are the eternal, unconquerable victims,
\n<\/span>Crying yes in silence, our screams slicing open
\n<\/span>the gown of the sky.<\/span><\/p>\n

We are the victims whose wound is a minaret,
\n<\/span>Whose blood trails behind them on the path to Calvary.<\/span><\/p>\n

We are the victims who, unlike other victims,
\n<\/span>Do not get to see the killer of our children.
\n<\/span>We do not see him in our poems,
\n<\/span>We do not see him in our streets,
\n<\/span>We do not see him\u2026
\n<\/span>A plague, you see, can never be seen.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

The Stillness in September<\/span><\/h4>\n

Amanee Izhaq<\/span><\/h4>\n

I remember the stillness in September
\n<\/span>The whisper of a child on a swing
\n<\/span>Back and forth
\n<\/span>Back and forth
\n<\/span>The North and South are one
\n<\/span>Their shouts are eternal
\n<\/span>The burial of a season
\n<\/span>Ease is a long lost memory<\/span><\/p>\n

The cemetery and majlis are one
\n<\/span>Gone is the wind of laughter
\n<\/span>The afterlife as cold as the dusk
\n<\/span>What does the dove say to the cage after breaking its bones to escape?
\n<\/span>\u201cYou could have saved both of our lives\u201d
\n<\/span>Now I\u2019ve died and you\u2019re covered in lies
\n<\/span>In blood
\n<\/span>Nothing will wash away the stain
\n<\/span>Nothing will remain as it was
\n<\/span>Or could have been
\n<\/span>The wind remembers it all<\/span><\/p>\n

A shawl dances in the breeze
\n<\/span>The children sell sweets in bare feet
\n<\/span>White sheets clothe the trays and the babies
\n<\/span>The long lost daisies of Deir Yassin
\n<\/span>Of Jenin
\n<\/span>Please bring back the birds
\n<\/span>Their words as empty as the square
\n<\/span>As broken as the air is polluted
\n<\/span>Uprooted
\n<\/span>Abused and left for dead<\/span><\/p>\n

The bread is soaked in blood
\n<\/span>The body of Christ
\n<\/span>Defiled and on fire
\n<\/span>Tired is the lamb
\n<\/span>Of man and his insatiable appetite
\n<\/span>Of a devastated world gone blind<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Tatreez<\/span><\/h4>\n

for Siham Abu-Ghazhaleh<\/p>\n

Mai Al-Nakib<\/span><\/h4>\n

She chose threads her son would love:
\n<\/span>blues and browns, deep purples, lilac, white.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stare at this piece of tatreez she made,
\n<\/span>framed and hung on a wall, the open sea not far.<\/span><\/p>\n

She could scan embroidery like a poem,
\n<\/span>tracking in abstract motifs Gaza, Ramallah, Jaffa.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her fingers threaded a needle with care,
\n<\/span>cross-stitching a story I\u2019ve lost but need.<\/span><\/p>\n

I see the symbols, there \u2014 house, key, cypress tree \u2014
\n<\/span>answers to a present no longer hers.<\/span><\/p>\n

I listen for her voice in each pattern and stitch,
\n<\/span>to make sense, beyond the grave, of this broken world.<\/span><\/p>\n

And it sings, the tatreez, to her son and me:
\n<\/span>\u201cFor a house, a key, a cypress tree we stand, and we stand.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Three poets pay tribute to the struggle in Gaza, the West Bank and the world over for Palestinian freedom and a future without war.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":681,"featured_media":34709,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[34,3864],"tags":[2970,3818,1288,3881],"coauthors":[3882,3884,2020,3883],"class_list":["post-34639","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","category-tmr-45-from-here-one-year-on","tag-childhood-trauma","tag-genocide-in-gaza","tag-palestine","tag-tatreez","entry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nPoems by Nasser Rabah, Amanee Izhaq and Mai Al-Nakib - The Markaz Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Three poets pay tribute to the struggle in Gaza, the West Bank and the world over for Palestinian freedom and a future without war.\" \/>\n<meta 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