Yarmouk (Poem)

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This is Yarmouk

The capital of the Palestinian diaspora

Cement block homes and narrow streets,

Housing eternal refugees

Exiled from a land, longing for return

Only besieged

Barrel bombs dropping

Crumbling, crumbled

Hollowed out shells

Haunted with remnants of laughter

Now cries of hunger

“Mamma where is my bread” (wein el khebez ya emmi)

“I am hungry” (ana jooa’an)

“Eating grass” (a’am nakol 7asheesh)

“Exhausted” (hleknah)

An endless sea of bodies

Face after gaunt face

Harrowing, hollow

Pained expressions

Ribs jaunting,

Skin on aching bones

and tears

Emptiness

This is Yarmouk.

Whilst you sit here luxurious

Blessed, gluttonous

In shining towers

Based on false perceptions of

successful urbanisation plans

only failing to succeed

as decent human beings

and we crumble

because we have failed you, them, us

Have you forgotten Hassan?

Have you forgotten the martyr’s memories?

The details

His hopes

His dreams

His voice

Haunting

This is Yarmouk.

The people have suffered enough

They said

Forgetting that the suffering continues

That the hunger ravaged voices

Still shout

This is Yarmouk.

-Photo: From the Yarmouk Camp by Anas Salameh

Comments

  1. Reblogged this on Tanasim تناسيم and commented:

    My latest on Beyond Compromise

  2. beautiful poem and so heart breaking 😦

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