An Ode for Lifta

An Ode for Lifta

I think of Lifta… I smile…. like a flower

Lifta… The healing touch of my grandmother

The aroma of her bread, baked with tenderness and love

Lifta…The hand of my mother against my face

Her gentle fingers running through my curls

Lifta…The smile of “Amal” my childhood friend

Gazing at Jerusalem in the horizon

Lifta… Rambling roses, lavender and jasmine

Poppies, daisies, chamomile carpets

And a blanket of stars

I think of Lifta… I smile…. like a flower

Lifta… distressed rocks, anxious roofs and wounded windows

Lifta… fatigued Hills sleeping on each other’s shoulders

Hunched homes, years of anguish and solitude

Insisting not to bow down

Resilient trees embracing the landscape

Refusing to surrender

A pounding tearful stream determined not to drown

I think of Lifta… I smile…. like a flower

Lifta… fragrant dreams of little girls

bouncing in the meadows

Lifta… sparkly eyes teaming with joy…

following a baby gazelle down the valley

Lifta… Rainbow giggles of many many children,

singing, dancing, playing “bride and groom”

I think of Lifta… I smile…. like a flower

Lifta… Lifta… Lifta

Lifta… the throbbing wound of my heart

The scent of my buried memories seeping through my tortured being

Lifta… the childhood paradise I yearn to re-grasp

Lifta… the last straw humankind could hold onto

To save its humanity

I think of Lifta… I smile…. like a flower

I think of Lifta… I weep… like a motherless child

I think of Lifta… I sing like a buoyant hummingbird

I think of Lifta… I tremble like an autumn leaf

I think of Lifta… I haemorrhage like slaughtered lamb

I think of Lifta… I smile…. like a flower

I think of Lifta… I gasp for a glimpse of her splendour

I think of Lifta… I melt with love, so tender

I think of Lifta… I rage… rage with blazing anger

“Sons of the devil”

(Yes, I called you that)

Heed if you have a residue of a heart

“NEVER AGAIN” you said


Heed if you have a scum of a soul

You destroy Lifta… You unleash your own demise



Boundless… measureless… bottomless…eternal

It’s your choice


And so it goes


Life… goes on

5 Responses

  1. […] At night, she opens the door Her colourful dreams run outflying over the village next door  Lifta Stroking her hills, calming her fearsGiving Lifta solace in her solitude […]


  2. Beautiful! Thank you my sweet sister:)


  3. that is a very beautiful poem, thank you, made me cry


  4. […] An Ode for Lifta […]


  5. […] Poetry for Palestine, July 8, 2011 […]


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