<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="yes"?><oembed><version><![CDATA[1.0]]></version><provider_name><![CDATA[Occupied Palestine | فلسطين]]></provider_name><provider_url><![CDATA[https://occupiedpalestine.wordpress.com]]></provider_url><author_name><![CDATA[occupiedpalestine]]></author_name><author_url><![CDATA[https://occupiedpalestine.wordpress.com/author/hajarhajar/]]></author_url><title><![CDATA[Erasure – A Poem from&nbsp;Palestine]]></title><type><![CDATA[link]]></type><html><![CDATA[<p>Translator&#8217;s note: My father Abdul Karim Sabawi never published this poem before although he did publish countless of books of poetry.</p>
<p>He said this one he kept in his heart like a blade that pierced him and released a bitter poison of doubt that he too would become part of a nation ethnically cleansed and driven into extinction.</p>
<p><strong>By Abdul Karim Sabawi</strong></p>
<blockquote><p><em>When you were parched</em></p>
<p><em>We quenched your thirst </em></p>
<p><em>With our blood</em></p>
<p><em>Now</em></p>
<p><em>We carry your burden</em></p>
<p><em>Disgraced</em></p>
<p><em>We cry in shame</em></p>
<p><em>When asked</em></p>
<p><em>Where do you come from?</em></p>
<p><em>Dishonoured we die</em><br />
<em>If only the stray bullets</em></p>
<p><em>From the occupier’s guns</em></p>
<p><em>Were merciful</em></p>
<p><em>That they pierced through our legs</em></p>
<p><em>It only they tore through our knees</em></p>
<p><em>If only we sunk in your soil </em></p>
<p><em>Deep to our necks</em></p>
<p><em>If only we got stuck </em></p>
<p><em>And became the salt of your earth</em></p>
<p><em>The nutrients in your fertile soil</em></p>
<p><em>If only we didn’t leave</em><br />
<em>The gates of our hearts </em></p>
<p><em>Are wide open to misery</em></p>
<p><em>Don’t ask us where this wind is blowing</em></p>
<p><em>Don’t ask us about a house</em></p>
<p><em>Or windows</em></p>
<p><em>Or trees</em></p>
<p><em>The Bulldozers were here</em></p>
<p><em>The Bulldozers were here</em></p>
<p><em>And the houses in our village </em></p>
<p><em>Fell&#8230;</em></p>
<p><em>Like a row of decayed teeth</em><br />
<em>They haven’t colonized Mars yet</em></p>
<p><em>And the moon is barren</em></p>
<p><em>Uninhabitable</em></p>
<p><em>So carry your children</em></p>
<p><em>Your memories</em></p>
<p><em>And follow me</em></p>
<p><em>We can live in the books of history </em><br />
<em>They’ll write about us&#8230;</em></p>
<p><em>“The wicked Bedouins</em></p>
<p><em>Landed in Baghdad</em></p>
<p><em>They landed in Yafa </em></p>
<p><em>They landed in Grenada </em></p>
<p><em>Then they moved on</em></p>
<p><em>They packed their belongings</em></p>
<p><em>And rode on their camels </em></p>
<p><em>They didn’t leave their print on the red clay</em></p>
<p><em>And all their artifacts </em></p>
<p><em>Were faded </em></p>
<p><em>With the passing of the years”</em><br />
<em>What does it mean to the world?</em></p>
<p><em>What does it really mean?An Arab&#8230;</em></p>
<p><em>A Native Indian&#8230;</em></p>
<p><em>A Dinosaur</em></p>
<p><em><br />
</em></p></blockquote>
<p><em>&#8211; Abdel Karim Sabawi is a Palestinian poet.  He wrote this on that painful morning when he woke up and found himself a refugee away from home in Jordan in 1967.  </em></p>
<p><em>(Translated by Samah Sabawi on the 63rd commemoration of Nakba.)</em></p>
<p><a class="contribution" style="cursor:pointer;" href="http://palestinechronicle.com/contribution.php"><strong><em>If you like this article, please consider making a contribution to the Palestine Chronicle.</em></strong></a></p>
<p><a href="http://palestinechronicle.com/view_article_details.php?id=16842">Source</a></p>
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