At the door of the tents

And in the darkness

The call is lost

And the moon commits suicide.

Hanan Awwad is a well-known Palestinian poetess and an activist, shares her poem

Hanan Awwad is a well-known Palestinian poetess and an activist, advocate, and poet. She is the president and founder of the Palestine section of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF). Awwad has advocated for Palestine in front of presidents and ministers, Hanan Awwad is based in Al Quds, West Bank, Palestine.

Image courtesy: The Nation Weekly

At the door of the tents

In the middle of the crowd

A cry of a martyr.

We reap the numbers of those who ascend to the sky

One in the beginner

And thousands in the news.

And wounds with the bleeding of the soul

Wet them with rain.

A child in the open

Counting the blood of the martyrs

Waiting for fate.

A garment soaked with mud

And crying,

And ashes spreading the smell of burning,

So the sparkle commits suicide

And the soul narrows

Facing danger.

An old man walks on his crutch on the road

Waiting for a child to pledge allegiance to his goal

And the people revolt,

And he goes without a place.

A bereaved woman

Carrying her martyred child

And calling out, “Oh, Mu’tasim!”

At the door of the tents

And in the darkness

The call is lost

And the moon commits suicide.

The corridors of the house were torn apart

And the treasures of the promise were blown up

And the gypsies were victorious.

What dawn do we seek

And what silence are we in

And what house do we buy

And time has become too tight for us

And the hour of danger has struck.

 Oh, time!

How did you come here

Connected by treachery

Bound by the farewell heat

And in travel?!

The windows of our travel have narrowed

And we have moved in the north

And in the south

And we have shattered the departure

On the table of injustice

Where is the escape??!

The enemy is before us

And behind us

And how do we proceed

And the soldiers are pounding the horses of existence.

And will we return

To our land

The best abode?!

How long will injustice last

And how many martyrs will dismount

Until the sky comes to an end

And the prisons turn white

And death stops

And our sun rises

And the flags are raised fluttering

And fate responds…

When

When

When.

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Published under International Cooperation with "Sindh Courier"