Wind churning a daub of Haifa seawater into my eye. Tomorrow,
a strip of sunburn,
skin peeling auburn.
Word scuffing my throat at Qalandiya checkpoint
as a man nods and
click rotates metal bars. Word rasps at Ramallah windows facing
the burly settlements—No—even during autumn
weddings. Word nests like a sunflower seed between
teeth and only
later do I spit it out
beneath a harvest moon in Manhattan.
By Elizabeth Berger, Rebecca Fadil, Samah Jabr and Christine Schmidt
The recent massacres in Gaza have only reinforced the legacy of the Nakba as an ongoing arc of atrocities rather than a single event of 70 years past, isolated in time. To resist the Nakba as a historical and current reality is thus a staggering challenge to us as mental health clinicians and as human beings. Nonetheless, we like to believe that our professional tool-kit prepares us especially for this work to some degree, as students of motivation who place a premium on truthful realities; and more, as healthcare professionals pledged to advocate for public well-being and to attempt to speak on behalf of the victimized, the silenced, and the oppressed.
By Hammam Farah
When I was eight years old I lived in a small oasis city in the desert, where the palm trees hung over a verdant landscape covered with date groves and natural springs, and enfolded by sand dunes of varying texture to the north and east of the city.
Farms of all sizes surrounded the city and produced a staggering amount of salad produce—tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, and even strawberries.
A limestone mountain with hot spring spa pools at its base overlooked the city from the southeast, shielding it like it was the world’s best-kept secret destinations.
بقلم: د. سيزر حكيم , أخصائي نفسي اكلينيكي
نتذكر نكبتنا في هذه الفترة من السنة ويتوحد الاسرائليون في هذا الوقت للتباهي بما قد انجزوه في غضون السبعون عام الأخيرة. سبعون عاماً من الانجازات وبناء الدولة “الأكثر ديموقراطية” في الشرق الاوسط وطبعا الجيش “الأكثر أخلاقيا”ً في العالم. عبارات ومعتقدات يرددها الاسرائليون في وسائل الاعلام. وفي الاحتفالات الرسمية للاستقلال السبعون، تجسد هذه الخطابات و الممارسة اليومية في السياسات إدارة الدولة تجاه مواطنيها الفلسطينيين و خاصة نحو الفلسطينيين تحت الاحتلال في الضفة الغربية وغزة المحتلة.
by Shadi Zaqtan
Translated by Stephen Sheehi
It was not a dream
Which climbed up through years
A dream which the body and place breathed
To remain with me, coming to me when tired.
By Jehan Bseiso
And don’t ever forget it, my grandfather warned me.
“Nakba daughter”, one among millions dispossessed.
This time last year I was a guest at home(land).
Waiting, for permission and approval,
For the “private security company” to give me back my passport.
Wishing, I could walk through the metal gate, rip the barbed wire with two hands.
Beyond the entitled occupiers with their big guns and yellow smiles.
Something about May in Palestine is all waiting and loss.