THE DEPARTURE – THE ARRIVAL

On that night my friend Iman and her three children came to say goodbye to me, my father played with the children and Iman and my mother talked about things. I don’t remember what.
Three-year-old Raghad was not playing, even though her older brother and sister were having a great time, being tickled by my father and climbing on his shoulders.
Raghad looked at me and said (angrily), “Auntie, don’t you love us?”
I said, “Sure sweetie, I love you very, very much.”
She said, “So how come you’re leaving us? What is in Canada?”
I said, “There is a better job and education for me sweetie.”
She said, “Why can’t you get that here?”
I said, “Because it’s different there.”
I told her some stuff about the future that she didn’t understand, and neither did I.
I noticed that my mother disappeared. When she came back, she had red eyes. She’d been doing that every fifteen minutes. I held myself together perfectly. That night I didn’t sleep at all, I’m sure my father and my mother didn’t either.

Next day we were at the airport. I can’t remember how, but I found myself at the airport with my father ,mother,my uncle, his wife and one of my cousins. All I remember was the very heavy coat that I was wearing; I called it “the sheep.” I was wearing my sheep and feeling that I was about to die from heat. I couldn’t fit my sheep in either of my huge suitcases, they were full. I filled them up with things I couldn’t leave behind..

It was a very long trip, to the unknown. I couldn’t sleep at all. All I remember was the longest sunset in my life — it was almost three hours long. This made me feel happy and optimistic. I remembered a conversation I once had with my mother; which was more beautiful, sunrise or sunset. My mother preferred sunrise because it represents a start. Well, sunset is a start too, a start of a new night and a preparation for another sunrise. I was thinking that both are beautiful, they just have a different taste of beauty and one can’t exist without the other.
I arrived at Toronto's airport. My plane to Ottawa was late, so I had to stay awake. I was exhausted; I'd been up for more than thirty hours. I found sixteen cents on one of the chairs; I thought this was a sign of good luck . The immigration people gave me some welcoming brochures at the airport, and a paper that many people in the Arab world would die or kill for — my permanent residency paper.

Mary, my relative’s friend, was supposed to wait for me in Ottawa. My plane arrived at 2 a.m.— several hours late. I’d never seen Mary, only spoken with her on the phone; all I knew was that she was supposed to wear a green coat. I had my sheep on, and was dragging two huge suitcases while holding my Oud in my hand. There was no one waiting for me. People who were there for other people took them and left. I didn’t see any green coats, or any green things at all. The only green things were my suitcases..
I stood there, not knowing what to do. Suddenly a guy came up to me and asked, “Are you Arab?”
I said — surprised, “Yes, how did you know?” (I was still naive, I didn’t realize it was written all over my face, in my color, features, eyes, everything.)
The guy said, “It’s obvious, you look like an Arab and you have a Oud.”
He asked me where I was from. I told him I was from the West Bank. He told me that he worked at the airport, and that he too was from the West Bank, from Bethlehem! I got excited and told him that I was also from Bethlehem. He asked me which high school I went to. We discovered that his wife was in my class.
“Isn’t there anyone waiting for you?” he asked. I told him about the woman with the green coat who hadn’t come.
He decided that we should call her and take directions. He was going to drive me.
On the phone I asked, “Did I wake you up?”
She said, “Yes.”
I said, “Sorry.”
She explained (not apologized) that the plane was late. It was past her bedtime, and she had to go to bed because she had work in the morning. I lied : “Oh, it’s okay, I understand.”
She asked me to take a cab, so I told her that there was someone ready to drive me.
I thought she’d say, careful or something like that, but she welcomed the idea. She gave him directions. He drove me to her place.
I never saw him again in my life.

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انا ما بقول عن حالي شاعرة ... معاذ الله Poetry قدر الشعر

Yahoo canceled yahoo 360. I had a private blog there that I shared with a few friends. I'll be reposting stuff from the old blog.


AUTHOR: DATE: 11/14/2006 14:18:09 -----STATUS: publish BODY:

i lost an entry i did this morning. a thought that i had when i first woke up. but no problem. i can think it again. maybe differently but the same still. so let me tell you... you? who are you??

oh now i remember some of the stuff i thought this morning, one of them was about why i use small 'i' instead of I when i talk about it.
By the way, this is not the main thought. the main thought was about poetry . or maybe i should say about ego.

I was thinking about people who with inflated ego who think they are poets or artists. They forget that a poet is a very deep word, poetry is not the chatter of someone's mind, or them venting , or them stringing together big words. poetry is something that you dont come up with . it comes up with you. it writes you...
هاليومين الكل شاعر.. كل ما حدا طلع كلمتين من تمه بيسميه شعر.. أغلب هالشعرا ما سمعو بمفهوم اسمه البلاغة.. و ما عندهم خبر كيف الفصاحة بيكون شكلها
يرحم أيامكم يا ربع عكاظ
انا ما بقول عن حالي شاعرة ... معاذ الله .. ولا بسمي اللي بكتبه شعر... في أسامي كتيرة الواحد ممكن يستعملها بدون ما يتعدا حدوده وحدود احترامه للغته
قولوا عني دقة قديمة.. مش مهم.. بفرقش عندي.. أحس ما أوهم نفسي وأتفرج على اللي عايشين في أوهام وقاعدين بيحطوا من قدر الشعر..
The divine nature of poetry . the sacredness of a poet. the poet ..the channel of the divine. the medium of god. not some kharabeet w khawater

على فكرة ... مره كنت عايشة فوق السحاب... سحاب صناعي.. أنا صنعته.. كنت كل ما بفكر فكرة بفكر حالي عبقرية بفكر حالي فيلسوفة ... مش اشي بحزن؟؟
It took me along time to realize how pathetic my situation was. and that i had no idea what I was doing , saying or thinking. I was just trapped in a little ego that has been domesticated in me. and that i had to assert for the longest time.
Fake clouds are very dangerous...
فن الأوهام
the art of self deceit


so...
the 'you' is whomever is watching me or my thoughts.. sometimes it feels like i am on a stage and there are these invisible beings watching me.. ghosts , angels, ancestors, the enlightened ones, etc..
there is God also of course . so I talk to YOU. Me also is another YOU .. my 'observer' . I am not sure if that is me or ME. i or I..

لمتى؟

لمتى حبك بَالحشا ساكن
وانتَ تِّمنع؟
لمتى روحي فؤادي فرحمتَك
وانتَ تِّدلع؟
يا قمر يالساكن بالسِما عالي
جيت اشتكيلك همّي والكدر
جيتك اشتكيلك وانِتْ أدرى بحالي
لوعتي عذابي بحُبَّك قَدَر
يا شامخٍ حِلْمُ وهيهاتِ تنطالي
يا بعد الحشا والروح والنظر
من يومٍ عرفتك سكنت بخيالي
إنسلِّ عودي وحالي تبدَّل
يا نجمةٍ تَلمع بالسما وتلالي
منك شحوبي ووضعي تِحَوَّل
أعياني سهدي وَالشوق يا سالي
بعد وجفا وصدود و ماقدر اتِّحَمل
مستوطنٍ بالذهن يا غالي
وما هقيت ذكري على بالك خطر
كيف انساك كيف انسى اللِيالي؟
كِلْ لحظةٍ في حضورك عُمُر
قربَك حياةْ وبعدك هلاكي
يا أغلى من اغلى الناس والبِشَر
أعياني الرّجا وذلّي وابتهالي
عْلامك قليبك اقسى من حجر؟
تسخر من تِشوف حرقتي ولا تبالي
وارجا قلبي الملتاع يصطبر
أضحيت الهدف وكل الآمال

ما اصدّق العيشة بعدك تستمر

I don't understand... you don't understand

I don't understand the laws of gravity on your planet
you don't understand why i don't understand
i don't understand why you cant understand why i don't understand

time and place failed,... an error happened
I was in my dimension
happy
an error happened
I turned into particles
and was transferred
here I am in your dimension
trying to figure out how your gravity works
here you can fall , in my planet you never fall
here it hurts when you fall , there you never fall

i don't understand why you laugh when you laugh
you don't understand why i cry when i cry
and i don't understand why you don't understand
and you don't understand why i don't understand why you don't understand
what make you laugh can make me cry
what makes me cry can make you laugh
and things fall..
i cant walk here, I'm not used to walking
there we float, we get to where we want to get by looking at it
here it takes time to get there
i cant understand the concept of something talking time
you don't understand why i cant understand
i don't understand how you understand what you understand

I cant hear your voice
i try to speak
my lips move and words come out
i cant hear them
you cant hear them
i see them floating
they are blown away by your wind
they spread over the universe .. and float
they are all over the place ... but invisible

an error happened
and I'm stuck in your dimension
and you don't understand why i cant cope with it
why i cant love it
you don't understand why i cant walk,
why i am so afraid of falling
why i cant hear you
you don't believe i cant understand your gravity
i don't understand why you cant believe
you don't understand that i cant understand
i cant understand why you cant understand