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Every people in the world lives in a place. For Palestinians, the place lives in them.” DR
A Palestine story

Journey From A Palestinian Refugee Camp to America
 
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First Love*

She was like the morning sun

But now, her cheer has gone

And her wink is done

 
I looked into her eyes

I saw the past and wanted to smile

I saw the future but needed to cry

I looked for a reflection of the alley

Where two souls used to rally

She turned away and said don’t try

For my soul is a living belie

 
Why me and not you

Why you but not me

Why them and not us

Why us but not them

Why even ask why

For my soul is a living belie

 
Is it god …or them must I blame?

Or me, or you for igniting the flame

Forget not; you deserted the Camp

Forget not; I am not a tramp

Remember …when you left in a clack

And one day, you promised to come back

I believed you then, you were a novice frank

 
Leave me alone and disappear again

Take a ship; take a train or a plane

Frankly I don’t care …

For I still have your scent in the air

Forget not; we shared a life of despair

We will continue to fight

For what is right and what is fair

 
Without moving a lip,

I heard her scream

For a soothing nip

From her long dream

 
Then …she closed her eyes

And a red tear rolled down her cheeks

With the brunt of fallen peaks

 
Oh, not in years, but she has aged

Like an animal who was caged

The wrinkles in her face

Tell the story of the place

Where life and death are in race

Yet, she is told to brace

And wait for tomorrow is the grace
 
 
I regret ...

I never told her many

I never told her any

That she was my first

That I liked her Kaki shirt

That I miss her alley flirt

That when she got married,

I was hurt!

 
 
* The story of this poem is detailed in chapter 2, "First Love, Camp Style." Sharing with the readers a teenager experience with love in the camp