In Jerusalem, and I mean within the ancient walls, I walk from one epoch to another without a memory to guide me. The prophets over there are sharing the history of the holy . . . ascending to heaven and returning less discouraged and melancholy, because love and peace are holy and are coming to town. I was walking down a slope and thinking to myself: How do the narrators disagree over what light said about a stone? Is it from a dimly lit stone that wars flare up? I walk in my sleep. I stare in my sleep. I see no one behind me. I see no one ahead of me. All this light is for me. I walk. I become lighter. I fly then I become another. Transfigured. Words sprout like grass from Isaiah’s messenger mouth: “If you don’t believe you won’t believe.” I walk as if I were another. And my wound a white biblical rose. And my hands like two doves on the cross hovering and carrying the earth. I don’t walk, I fly, I become another, transfigured. No place and no time. So who am I? I am no I in ascension’s presence. But I think to myself: Alone, the prophet Mohammad spoke classical Arabic. “And then what?” Then what? A woman soldier shouted: Is that you again? Didn’t I kill you? I said: You killed me . . . and I forgot, like you, to die.
I belong there. I have many memories. I was born as everyone is born.
I have a mother, a house with many windows, brothers, friends, and a prison cell
with a chilly window! I have a wave snatched by seagulls, a panorama of my own.
I have a saturated meadow. In the deep horizon of my word, I have a moon,
a bird's sustenance, and an immortal olive tree.
I have lived on the land long before swords turned man into prey.
I belong there. When heaven mourns for her mother, I return heaven to
her mother.
And I cry so that a returning cloud might carry my tears.
To break the rules, I have learned all the words needed for a trial by blood.
I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a
single word: Home.
أيــها المـــارون بين الكلمــات العــابرة احملــوا أســماءكم وانصـرفــوا واســحبوا ساعــاتكم من وقتنا ،و انصرفوا وخذوا ما شئتم مــن زرقــة البحر و رمل الذاكرة و خذوا ما شئتم من صــور،كي تعرفوا انكم لن تعرفــوا كيف يبني حجر من ارضنـا ســقف الـسماء
اذا هددوك بالموت ضحكت للموت لان الموت عندك شهادة وليس خسارة, أستعملوا كل ما أتيح من قوة وعتاد واسلحة غبية ولم تبالي وما زلت تقاوم. لا تملك اي سلاح بحثت في الارض التي أنجبتك فوجدت الحجر فكان أقوى من أي سلاح .. يا شعب فلسطين ما أعظمك..
