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Tales of Home Basman Derawi
from Falastin Volume 5 Issue 3
by paccusa
Tales of Home
Basman Derawi
I never see Beersheba But through her tales I see the birth of dawn When my grandmother Used to wake up Kneading the bread Milking the goat before Its blood mixed with the milk After one soldier sees it as a threat
Through the eyes of my uncle In his exile, in Jordan I see the childhood of my father Running in the narrow alleys of a Refugee camp I see him with other kids Playing hide and seek I see him sitting on a school's desk At one of UN refugee's school
With my mother's bedtime tales I see the West Bank I've never been allowed to visit I see the Dome of Rock Al Aqsa mosque, The Church of Nativity I smell the cheesy Nabulsi kunafa As I walk in the narrow allies Of the old city in Nablus.
Artwork by Nisrin Shahin IG: Nisrin.Shahin
