“The metaphor for Palestine is stronger
than the Palestine of reality."
Mahmoud Darwish, Palestinian poet
Stones and Molotov cocktails— His words,
The poet, Mahmoud Darwish,
Palestinian of Revolt, now dead,
Who speaks to me with great words—
A special day, he tells me, his ghost mulling over
endless paper and pens,
Darwish tells me with sarcasm and laughter,
Every country has its own Intifada.
A maid rages about meager pay in a hotel,
The mechanic howls in poverty
in a garage--
fixing cars for the rich, the middle class,
and the poor who will not be able to pay
for axle grease, the wear on the tires--
Life is worth less than a living wage.
It is winter here in the Western world,
In Gaza and the West Bank, clouds are covering
this day reminding us who perished.
We remember the unbearable suffering
at the Jabalia Refugee Camp— that took place,
There at the First Intifada—
The State of Palestine founded upon dire struggle,
blood and language.