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.