At the door of the tents
And in the darkness
The call is lost
And the moon commits suicide.
Hanan Awwad is a well-known Palestinian poetess and an activist, shares her poem
Hanan Awwad is a well-known Palestinian poetess and an activist, advocate, and poet. She is the president and founder of the Palestine section of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF). Awwad has advocated for Palestine in front of presidents and ministers, Hanan Awwad is based in Al Quds, West Bank, Palestine.
At the door of the tents
In the middle of the crowd
A cry of a martyr.
We reap the numbers of those who ascend to the sky
One in the beginner
And thousands in the news.
And wounds with the bleeding of the soul
Wet them with rain.
A child in the open
Counting the blood of the martyrs
Waiting for fate.
A garment soaked with mud
And crying,
And ashes spreading the smell of burning,
So the sparkle commits suicide
And the soul narrows
Facing danger.
An old man walks on his crutch on the road
Waiting for a child to pledge allegiance to his goal
And the people revolt,
And he goes without a place.
A bereaved woman
Carrying her martyred child
And calling out, “Oh, Mu’tasim!”
At the door of the tents
And in the darkness
The call is lost
And the moon commits suicide.
The corridors of the house were torn apart
And the treasures of the promise were blown up
And the gypsies were victorious.
What dawn do we seek
And what silence are we in
And what house do we buy
And time has become too tight for us
And the hour of danger has struck.
Oh, time!
How did you come here
Connected by treachery
Bound by the farewell heat
And in travel?!
The windows of our travel have narrowed
And we have moved in the north
And in the south
And we have shattered the departure
On the table of injustice
Where is the escape??!
The enemy is before us
And behind us
And how do we proceed
And the soldiers are pounding the horses of existence.
And will we return
To our land
The best abode?!
How long will injustice last
And how many martyrs will dismount
Until the sky comes to an end
And the prisons turn white
And death stops
And our sun rises
And the flags are raised fluttering
And fate responds…
When
When
When.
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