An Ode to Lifta

By Nahida Izzat

Nahida Izzat

the Exiled Palestinian

Editor's Note: This version has been very slightly edited, near the ending. It was written by the young poet on reading that Israel is planning to raze the old village of Lifta to make room for vacation homes for Israelis. Read the full account in A Palestinian's Last Village to be Razed appearing on this blog.

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 with blazing anger

You doers of evil

who so wantonly rain death and destruction

on helpless, defenseless

Palestinians

Heed if you have a residue of a heart

NEVER AGAIN you said

NEVER AGAIN you LIED

Heed if you have a scum of a soul

You destroy Lifta! You unleash your own demise

WRATH as NEVER BEFORE

Torment

Boundless, measureless, bottomless, eternal

It’s your choice

And so it goes

Delightful

Life . . . goes on!

About the author: Nahida Izzat is a Jerusalem-born Palestinian refugee living in exile for over 44 years. She was forced to leave her homeland, Palestine, at the age of seven during the six-day war. Nahida is a mathematician by education, a mother of 3 children by career, an artist by hobby, and a returned-refugee to a free Palestine by optimism, hopes and anticipation