Born in Jerusalem

 

 

Born in Jerusalem

(Artist/ Image: Manal Deeb)

In Hebrew print scribbled somewhere

in my green Identity card,

born in Jerusalem

Sometime ago.

 

For life

A green little card casts me away from Jerusalem.

Visitations are authorized

To the city where life is dying

No colors are allowed,

Only blue and red

Blue cards and red blood.

Born in Jerusalem

a city alien to me.

I do not know Jerusalem

I cannot speak its language.

I spoke English with an Iranian

Jew

A big smile on his face

“You are a very nice lady”.

 

Where is AL-Quds ??

History hides itself in shame

In between the stones of thousands years

of tales of coexistence.

One color, one Jerusalem

I hide inside my city

It is no longer my city.

Where was I born??

Nowhere, I guess.

Blue and white flags reign

A reminder, an assertion of power.

 I never knew that power stands so fearful of other colors.

No green, no black, but yes red paints its face.

I thought power is fearless.

 

Jerusalem

Where was I born?

Does it really matter where was I born?

 A Curse??

My mom was born in a distant place

Behind the seas.

She was born in a place she never saw again.

How many times will the story repeat itself?

Conquer, retreat and then conquer and retreat again.

All nations take turn and all nations have narratives and have pride.

A pride so big it engulfs Jerusalem.

What is a place?

Why is it important?

History, Identity, but it was no use to the city;

This sacred shrine.

 It has swallowed my existence.

Born in Jerusalem

A city so close yet so besieged.

A city in pain

With all we entrust her with .