I want Palestine.

I have never lived in Palestine. I'm a Jordanian citizen since my grandfather was forced out of his home and was never allowed back. And I lived with my family in Yemen most of my life. But I've been to Palestine only once, and I wasn't old enough to know how fortunate I was. I say so much about it but remember so little. I want Palestine. I want to remember the air and the smell; the olive taste and every corner of every street.

I was born an immigrant and raised to belong to a dream land. I was raised to belong to its stories, heroes and anthems. I was raised to return.

I grew up with love, in two beautiful countries. But on this day, I want to have what belongs to me. But mostly, what I belong to. I want a homeland, not territories. I want justice, with no exceptions or "security reasons."

Today is my 20th birthday and here's my wish: I want a house in a Mokhayyam, a 60 year old neighbor with his ten kids and a very quite neighborhood where I can play music, take pictures and write stories.

I'd scream it in the streets if it would make any difference. But we do that all the time, somehow we end up ignored and left behind. Maybe another writing in a blog is all that I can do. So here I am. I want Palestine.

I took this picture of Palestine's sky and mountains three months ago at the right of return march in Karama town near the borders.


There were freckles on his skin, to remind him of sunshine. He spoke to mirrors at the dawn, and wore a face for the dark.

Beauty had taught him illusions. To every mirror, he could only doubt. He had brown eyes, dry lips and flat chin. He had red hair, pale skin and freckles. And each night, he conceived the light.

In between his head and chest, love was war. He was caught between a hand and arm, security and harm. But he swore to the Gods, I will love until this body turns into shape and soul. I will give until I'm whole.

If He loses focus, he'd direct his eyes to their reflection. If he forgets, the memory is on each hair of his skin, with every touch and scent. He knew that his freckles were all he's left.

A Repelling Phenomenon

Build your wreckage into stone, like never before, before you hold me
Write your legacy and find sanity in your brain
Defend your heart and set your own eyes to see
Only then you'll know, and I'll be gone in the rain