Rima Anabtawi: Water Off My Throat
Water Off My Throat - The Heartbreak of Palestinian Truth
By Rima Anabtawi
May 5, 2004 - Connecticut
For Sadeq Anabtawi
plans will be underway for the wedding
All day they have been shelling the Old City of Nablus.
How much more can old Yasmina take,
With its rubbled worn stones, and beautiful arched paths
Entrances into ancient paths, sacred survival
Whose diwan, and will the candy maker not pass , with his turkish delight
Neatly wrapped in white boxes
White the color of bliss , the cloth we will be buried in
Candied delight ,pink and soft like our fragile hearts ,
Pounding louder , hearing the sound of
Black roars and deafening Apache whirls.
Kenafe spills on the rubble mixed with blood
And dust, whirling with the songs of ancestors.
I can hear Fadwa cry out from her grave.
Her house , next to our old one, the entrances now closed.
"Please don't harm the terrace"
Where flowers once bloomed and fountains
Trickled, like the sound of stars.
Where young Ibrahim penned passion onto paper.
They are bombing the Old City Baba
Oh had you walked with me and sat on our doorstep.
Maybe never is forever now.
Top grade metal meets worn mazes of earth
Protect our stories in its grit and dust and weeps.
They are shelling Yasmina Now
The rubbles will remain, as we hold tight our chests.
And cry out to the birds.. Takbir !
and you sing our ZAGHAREEEEEEEEEED!