Home Sick
By Hamzeh Ibrahim
In pursuit of my true home, the green earth I roam,
the dirt that lies beneath my feet doesn’t feel like home.
I roam, I roam for a better path, as I wander the strange and unfamiliar
From the sorrow days and lost hope, to days of bliss and singing a prose.
Even when the rains strike the olive trees with thunder and cold,
The dawn sets in colors of tangerines and rose.
In pursuit of my true home, our goals are never lost,
The blood that spills at home is the blood that flows through my heart.
The diaspora will continue to thrive, resisting the theatrical colonial show,
Scattered like the stars in the sky with a heavenly glow,
Amid the flying metal the war machine bestows.
Through generations, from our grandfathers to our children,
Resisting, educating, pushing and pulling,
As songs and dance, tactics and maneuvers, shifts and blends.
From the use of the sword, to more engaging trends.
I will reach my home in Palestine, there will never be an end.
***
The Long Enduring
Where the shallow rivers cross and meet,
From upon the olive trees, she sits and weeps
Through the hills and plains, the enemy lies intent and discreet,
Let her sleep, sleep away, amongst the reality that sadly sings..
From the scenery that shall not cease, from a future she wants to bring.
Rest your soul, a soul that no bullet can break,
A soul that foreign thoughts cannot overtake
Sleep, sleep, for evermore,
She dreams of the setting sun upon Jaffa’s shores,
A sleep that no soldier shall wake,
a deep embrace that no morning can break.
From upon the orange-bearing trees, only her shadow she fears.
Shed a tear… Shed a tear for the world that cannot hear…
Through the open skies and the stretched horizons,
In the ever-spanning Earth, she roams disinterestedly like the jet-black stallions.
Her land of sorrow, bereft of everything imagined.
A land stolen from her, a land of her grandfathers.
Through the memories that have caused her harm,
She’ll remain lost in this world, lost until she throws herself in your arms….
***
What’s Your Cause?
My pen has bled for many years,
Emptying itself on sorrow, happiness, and fears.
I’ve said many things
Some bright, some dark,
I’ve done many things,
Some ill forever keep in my heart.
My perceptions are broken and torn,
Memories so livid, my past mourns
Striving to reach that light,
Forever pessimistic, no end in sight.
Our history, our past, our present
We love, we fight, we forgive, we resent.
From the fearful, hopeless, or love lost suckers,
Even towards the sick and twisted thieves and hustlers.
Life is a journey, but without a cause you’ll remain forever lost.
My cause is Palestine, the fight is forever in my heart.
– Hamzeh Ibrahim is a senior at Arizona State University and a member of Students for Justice in Palestine. He contributed these poems to PalestineChronicle.com.
