I’ve been aghast at the news of what is amounting to ethnic cleansing in Gaza and the repetition of the Catastrophe of 1948. I am saddened and enraged by the absence of a real international outcry. We truly live in a inhumane world. Some antidote to the despair I have been feeling is found in poetry, music and art, particularly of those from Palestine and the diaspora of exiles and refugees from the region. I share a poem by Darwish, of whom, Wikipedia says:

Mahmoud Darwish, (13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008) was a Palestinian poet and author who was regarded as Palestine’s national poet. He won numerous awards for his works. Darwish used Palestine as a metaphor for the loss of Eden, birth and resurrection, and the anguish of dispossession and exile.He has been described as incarnating and reflecting “the tradition of the political poet in Islam, the man of action whose action is poetry.” He also served as an editor for several literary magazines in Palestine.

Below I have shared two poems by Darwish, poems which document the multifaceted oppression of the Palestinian people. Never a Hamas supporter, Darwish’s faith in the revolutionary power of hope and rational thinking was challenged many times during his involvement with culture and politics. You can look him up online to get a fuller picture of this prolific and committed poet. Below are a list of awards he received during his lifetime.

Lotus Prize for Literature (1969; from the Afro-Asian Writers’ Association)
Lenin Peace Prize (1983; from the USSR)
The Knight of the Order of Arts and Letters (1993; from France)
The Lannan Foundation Prize for Cultural Freedom (2001)
Al Owais Award (2002–2003)
Prince Claus Awards (2004)
“Bosnian stećak” (2007)
Golden Wreath of Struga Poetry Evenings (2007)
The International Forum for Arabic Poetry prize (2007)
The Argana International Poetry Prize (2008; from Morocco)

Identity Card

Write down!
I am an Arab
And my identity card number is fifty thousand
I have eight children
And the ninth will come after a summer
Will you be angry?

Write down!
I am an Arab
Employed with fellow workers at a quarry
I have eight children
I get them bread
Garments and books from the rocks…
I do not supplicate charity at your doors
Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber
So will you be angry?

Write down!
I am an Arab
I have a name without a title
Patient in a country
Where people are enraged
My roots
Were entrenched before the birth of time
And before the opening of the eras
Before the pines, and the olive trees
And before the grass grew

My father … descends from the family of the plough
Not from a privileged class
And my grandfather … was a farmer
Neither well-bred, nor well-born!
Teaches me the pride of the sun
Before teaching me how to read
And my house is like a watchman’s hut
Made of branches and cane
Are you satisfied with my status?
I have a name without a title!

Write down!
I am an Arab
You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors
And the land which I cultivated
Along with my children
And you left nothing for us
Except for these rocks …
So will the State take them
As it has been said?!

Therefore!
Write down on the top of the first page:
I do not hate people
Nor do I encroach
But if I become hungry
The usurper’s flesh will be my food
Beware …
Beware …
Of my hunger
And my anger!

First published: Leaves of Olives, 1964.
Source: New Democracy, Vol. 31, November 2008.
Transcribed: by Zdravko Saveski.