For Samer Issawi: Tribute to
a Jerusalem Son – A Poem
By Susan Abulhawa
Apartheid’s outlaw
Has crooked white teeth
An Adam’s Apple and an angled jaw
A beautiful face
With a knowing smile, gentle eyes
And masculine grace
O’ Native son, my brother
Your eyes have sunk in darkness’ pain
Sleepless nights crawl on your skin
And daylight climbs the links of your rusty prison chain
Religion made a mistake
So your body shrinks
And shadows trample your ribs
While a thousand senators quake
In your hallowed belly, Jerusalem screams
Chokes on your mother’s tears
And shakes these tired dreams
From your body’s excavation of death
The ruin of nations is carved in your palm
And a sorrowful flag holds its breath
O’ Native son, my brother
You carry your broken frame
Through the decay of health
And death hangs its head in shame
You are the prince
Where the Jasmine sings
The bougainvillea prance
And the tyrants wince
Palestine rises on the days
They siphoned from your vein
As if crutches to steady her gait
For, a gun can but power feign
O’ Native son, my brother
Fly
And
Let
And
over this country your wish
pour the Adan from your wings
the church bells chime from your smile
the walls fall by your kiss
Our tears will rain and the wadis flood
Until another thousand years
Have sunk in Jerusalem’s mud
We will harvest the olives with your name
And your heart forever stake our claim
–
Susan
Abulhawa
is
the
author
of
the
international
bestselling novel, Mornings in Jenin (Bloomsbury, 2010) –
www.morningsinjenin.com – and founder of Playgrounds for
Palestine – www.playgroundsforpalestine.org. She contributed
this poem to PalestineChronicle.com.