yesterday I died 360 times

Yesterday I died!

As an old man buried in his tomb,
A fetus dead in her mother's womb

Last night I had my last drop of coffee
My last dream, my last piece of bread

Tomorrow morning I will witness my last dawn
Listen to my daughter's last heart beat
Say I love you for the first, the very last time

Last year I loved; I hated, laughed, and cried
I whispered, I screamed
I was a genius I was an insane
I was an inhabitant, I was a refugee

60 years ago I saw Haifa for the last time
Lived under occupation for the first time

I was young, I was spoiled
I loved my grand mother's stories
I cherished the summers, I hated the rain

Few hours ago I was cold
I was hungry, I was mad, I was angry
I was dead

65 years ago,
I was a fisherman I had beautiful wife
Three young girls an amazing life

One got married in Jerusalem
The other moved with her husband to Al-Fallujah
The third couldn’t resist the beauty of Tal Al-rabie'a

Last month my grand daughter
Didn’t get a permission to pass
A green ID is what she has
She wanted to visit my grave
They told me we look alike
I would have witnessed that, if I weren’t killed in that air strike

At 4pm I couldn’t believe what happened to me
I became famous on all international TVs

Few minutes ago I was invisible no one knew about me
No one heard my screams, felt my fears
No one held my freezing shaking small hand
No one told me it will be ok
Soon it will be ok
No one saw me, no one felt me
I was invisible, no one knew about me!

Few minutes later I'm on TV
Everyone talks about me
Even the CNN mentioned me!!

I was dead there under the ruble
I bet you still remember
Me with my three other sisters
Maybe now you're hanging our pictures

I even saw my father on TV
It’s the first time I see him crying
Daddy please don’t cry…Daddy please don't cry
I promise next time I will not die!

Yesterday I died!

As an old man buried in his tomb,
As fetus dead in her mother's womb

Yesterday I died 360 times!

Raya Z

Raya è una mia amica di Ramallah, ha scritto lei questo componimento.
il senso di impotenza di fronte a questa carneficina emerge da tutti i discorsi con amici palestinesi... non rimane che la nuda parola, la protesta, la possibilità di gridare fin quando almeno potremo farlo...