May I Go Back, a Child


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I want to go back, a child,
A child who does not read newspapers, nor listen to news
Does not know wars, ignorant in the art of worrying,
Does not master politics nor does she write poetry
I want to go back, a child again,
Playing in the folds of history,
Hiding beneath a bird’s wings
I want to go back, a child forgotten by time,

Left her behind and never looked back

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I want to go back, a child lost her way to tomorrow,
Distracted by angels and sweet fairies
Racing with boys, throwing pebbles,

Rolling down a mountain and climbing trees
Scattering basil leaves while playing “Bride and Groom”
Having fun and allocating roles among friends

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Embracing her rag-doll, so she may sleep, still and serene without fear
Whisper in her tender heart,

“Blessed the Most Sublime, how exquisite children are”
“Let her sleep, let her sleep, a couple of doves, waiting for her
“Fly away little doves, but not for long,
Come sing for the beloved so she may fall asleep”
Embroider a dress of stars, the colour of rainbow,
The enchantment of summer breeze, dew, warmth and light

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Of water and soil making Za’ter dough, baked with olives and olive oil,
So my beloved may eat in the morning
Gathering pomegranates, peaches, apples, pears and prickly pears
Eat sweetheart, our land is generous, its sky is wide,
Our world, an astounding journey

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A child, stacking stones, building palaces out of sand
and verandas for houses with no fences or walls
At dawn, collecting figs and almonds
Filling her claypot of the well or stream down the valley
A brave knight riding her golden horse,

To rescue the princess of the castle

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Plait her wild hair, adorn with diamonds, sapphire, coral and a moon
In utter joy, wearing her mother’s bracelet
Then, hiding behind the curtain, not to be chastised
Swaying in her grandma’s rustic garb
Scented of jasmine and vine,
Embroidered with poppies, meadows and wild flowers

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I want to go back, a child,
A child who does not read newspapers, nor listen to news
Does not know wars, ignorant in the art of worrying,
Does not master politics nor does she write poetry
I want to go back, a child again,
Playing in the folds of history,
Hiding beneath a bird’s wings
I want to go back, a child forgotten by time,

Left her behind and never looked back

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O time, hold this fragile heart in tenderness,
For it has melted of compassion, yearning for joyful past days
I want to go back, a child, sleeping like a baby,
Waking up at the singing of swallows not bombing and destruction
O Grace, take this broken heart,
Grind it down, scatter it over earth, salt and water
Our Earth is parched for justice, O Most Merciful, Most Sublime

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5 Responses

  1. I love your poem, Nahida.

    It also brings back memories of my childhood too, and the memories are crumpled up in shards of glass, thier cuts too deep to fathom; my childhood turned me into a poet, its dark night of the soul, was too much to bear for a tiny child.

    Geez, there I go being all raw and exposed again, oh well, you taught me that being raw is a good thing, vulnerable as it is…

    • The more raw you write, the more souls you caress❤

  2. Reblogged this on daninstockholm and commented:
    Beautiful work,, i highly recommend this superb blog!

    • Thank you Daninstockholm

  3. Found your post on the Arthur Topham trial case on Radical Press dot com. Beautiful poem, beautiful images of children. Thanks.

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