To Fatina Al-Ghara, Heba Al-Agha, and Fidaa Ziad
I am almost certain that the three of you are behind the communication cut-off
between Gaza and the outside world
I look at those three hearts
And I know that they wanted to
-War after war-
Removing the frame from the image of war.
Now look at what the three of you did
There is a war going on in Gaza outside the picture
This war is angry
Unruly
This war is senseless
It has no heart since the eternity
It has no eyes now
That's why she fumbled with her hands in Khan Yunis
Dair Al Balah
Gaza beach
Jabalia in the north
Al-Nuseirat is in the middle
Rafah in the south
I gouged out three eyes of war
I know now that this is not the time to spoil you.
But the most appropriate time to be spoiled is when in pain
Could you please tie my arm, this crazy one, to the tree of shadows?
The anchors holding its hair were thrown into the White Sea
Opening her stomach
Let this fire go out
Then, bring again the communication,
Maybe the outside world will see
What we see 76 years ago,
What lies in the belly of war
We know and they don't
Or do they know it and deny it?
*
To Muhammad Al-Zaqzouq
I still laugh at your way
In describing your travel to Germany
Did you really travel there?
By then, were they really preparing to commit the crime of cutting off contact between us?
I tried to contact you since the beginning of the war
But you didn't answer?
I said to myself:
Muhammad is fine,
I did not read your name among the names of the martyrs
Even if this does not happen, God forbid
I know your satisfaction, my friend, very well
I know how you are satisfied with everything
With anything
You told me last November as you were returning me from Rafah to Gaza:
Give me anything outside Gaza.
And I knew you were coming back
I know your satisfaction
I haven't found that kind of satisfaction
My friend, except between your wings
So spread them
And stay in this life
Then answer
When I call you
*
To The Sardine
I have no doubt now, sardine
That you left the fish image
Which needs the sea
The sea is now surrounded
And you said to me:
slow down,
Give me the opportunity to move between forms.
Then you flew with your small body
And you played with the clean, lead-free space
Then you got tired
Then you came down
Then you returned to your original form
A beautiful girl in her late 20s
Older than herself
She wants to live a long life
With love
So who else, my little friend?
Is more suitable for love
And worthy of life?
*
To Akram Sourani
I want to hear your voice, my friend,
In fact, any encrypted message from you will not be enough
Your sarcasm was not only in words
It was packed in your sweet voice
And in your own laughter
When you make it that way
The way its description does not suffice
Your laugh, Akram
That falls on us
We, your friends
And kills us with laughter
So come back from this hiding
counting
And kill us with laughter
*
To Othman Hussein
What are you doing now?
How do you entertain yourself, my friend?
Do you watch the children playing in the neighbourhood?
And call out to them:
Come back quickly
So they come back fast
Faster than bullets?
Does Bahia read your poetry?
Do you know,
I want to know what Bahia chose to read to you
Or what did you choose for Bahiya to listen to?
This will never stop the war
You and I know very well
That poetry does not stop war
This is only a message between two hearts
At the time of communication's cut off
(Translated by Rabahi Chahrazad)
Ahlam Bsharat (b. 1975) is a Palestinian novelist, poet, children's author and creative writing teacher. She grew up at Tammun, a village in Northern Palestine and lives in Ramallah. Her books translated into English include Ismee Alharakee Farasha (Code Name: Butterfly) and Ashjaar lil-Naas al-Ghaa’ibeen (Trees for the Absentees).
Rabahi Chahrazad is an Algerian Forensic Doctor in the University hospital of Blida-Algeria
