I tended my garden with great care —
Olives, thyme, dates, sage, and rosemary there.
Well before fajr and long after isha’s call,
No effort was spared in looking after them all.
From tiny seeds to flowers in full bloom,
I watched them glow in sun’s majestic light.
And as the first buds of the olives came to life,
Every glance, every day was an endless delight.
Wearied days would vanish at their sight
Each bloom I touched made my mornings bright
I would count my blessings: one, two, three, four…
Up to ten — then countless more.
Then came the fire that scorched it all —
Thyme, dates, sage, and rosemary gone.
One gnarly olive barely hangs by a thread;
My waking moments are soaked in tears, eyes red.
Now with every breath, a prayer escapes:
Protect my olive — please keep it safe.
It’s the last remnant of a heart so full, a life well lived,
In service of my garden, my people, and God the Esteemed.
You blessed Yaqub with a garden vast,
Only to separate him from Yusuf, the rose of his heart.
Yaqub complained, yearned, and wept till blindness veiled his eyes
You, the Merciful, answered his prayers and restored old ties.
So bless me, as You did Yaqub in the end —
Restore the coolness of my eyes, O Ibrahim’s Friend.
“For I too have the gift of song which gives me courage to complain,
But ah! ‘tis none but God Himself whom I, in sorrow, must arraign!”
Your infinite wisdom is beyond my grasp,
So, to Your rope of hope I must clasp.
“The lessons of patience I teach my heart,
As though to night’s separation I show a false part.”
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The pain is every day more and more unbearabler ... Till which extreme our faces in the mirror would be seeable? Now the "leaders" began to accept what for the most of us was clear from the beginning: this is not war but a genocidal massacre of innocent civilians (as they acknowledge now that palestinians are humans too) .... Now they will push for the unthinkable "two states solution": a way to not confront the homicidal fundamentalism of Israel and questioning their right to exist such an appartheid as part of the nations consensus ... such hipocrytical.
Meanwhile the discussion goes on, the blood of innocent childrens is painting our consciences...
This was a lovely yet heartbreaking poem. I feel so unhappy yet powerless to stop what is happening in Palestine.