​( excerpt of a poem from my upcoming collection POETRY & THE SEARCH FOR SELF….in commemoration of his passing 8 years ago, today) 

Aj dagga tolar

Here is the bithplace for the freedom of pain

for while soldiers for the peace of their living kind

can in an instance deface a space with sorrow and death

and forget that the pain will be lasting on others
and will fester the flesh of living hearts to hate life

and the self itself is cheap to ship death like shit to companies

and scatter the unarmed kind of the soldiers out of love’ reach

and the flow of flowers after is a scene set and poised to poison 
seasonal mourners to grate the locked gates of the homeland unopened

and the name too outside of the heart becomes a word empty

when all there is to a living space is the flesh round about the bones

and who says there is safety the less for the lost mind out of meaning
not be worried or bothered about bread or borders and brothers’

concern for the colour of the flag and future hope of a country

comes out to be seen dead in the wrapping round coffins

and the songs of the sisters’ tears to remand the remains of life
 for freedom won is a gravestone and not a place to make a home

But what other place do Palestinians have to dream nationality

when the birthplace is a fetish to wear in the mind and forget

and get lost in strangers’ land….and their long tongue…
(today for me is Darwish day… to savour his rich lines and legacy…

and the unresolved Palestine question… the poetic insight to a crisis and question of nationhood… and in the end it is the working masses themselves from both divide who suffer and whose unity first in any of the divide and taking over power… can this question ultimately be resolved… …not holy Mallams in Hamas and the tactic of a killing for a suicide bomb blast or the Isreali ruling elites…who continue to blow the ember of terror… to wield lordship over the working masses.


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