From Haifa to Arabah

From Haifa

The cultural capital of Palestine

To Arabah

Salma was displaced

She was a city girl

not used to the life of farms

She pride herself of how neat her fingernails were

She pride herself that she was the first of her class

But she had to move out of her home

If she didnt…. she would have been caught by the explosion of her home few days later

In the village of near jenin she learnt how to be a farmer

To get her hands in the dirt and mud

She learned about the flowers and herbs that grow naturally in the lands of Palestine

The land was so fertile, olive trees can live on rain alone

The trees and leafs in her backyard were so dense and abundant, her clothes will get wet from the dusk dew alone

My grandmother tells me these stories as I sit still and relive the memories with her

Now, as we are seeing Jenin being demolished

I pray the next building is not one of the houses that my grandmother told me she will show me one day

As I see my grandmother grow older

I pray we will free Palestine soon

I dont want to visit Palestine alone

I want my grandmother to be the little girl salma and show me where she played around

Where she learnt to take care of the land

Where she leant to be resilient

I dont want to just go with all the buildings flattened

With only the imagination of where Salma saw her neighbor’s brain got splashed

Where the children were buried under the rabble

While we can build it up again, let’s respect the olive trees that are thousands of years old

Let’s leave some of the numerous cultures that lived and added to the Holy land with touches we can see in the arts of the streets

I want to see the fortunes of the lands

I want to get my hands into the fertile earth

To find the native plants

To get wet with dew

Let’s not transform it into a wasteland

Where I can only get wet with my tears