Friday, May 15, 2015


Sixty-seven years of occupation and oppression  
Sixty-seven years of confiscation and colonization
Sixty-seven years of destabilization and devastation
Sixty-seven years of dehumanization and deprivation
Sixty-seven years of peace plans and pieces of lands
Sixty-seven years of road blocks and land locks
Sixty-seven years of un-stabilization and un-justification
Sixty-seven years of imprisonment and impoverishment
Sixty-seven years of terrorizing and traumatizing
Sixty-seven years of exiling and expunging
Sixty-seven years of erecting and eradicating
Sixty-seven years of antagonizing and annihilating
Sixty-seven years of segregation and separation  
 Sixty-seven years of UN resolutions and UN reports
Sixty-seven years of abandonment and abomination
Sixty-seven years of uprooting and uprising
Sixty-seven years of refugees and re-imprisonment
Sixty-seven years of prisoner exchanges and promises exasperated
Sixty-seven years of US backing and US double standards
Sixty-seven years of UN veto and UN violations
Sixty-seven years of diplomacy shuffling and diplomatic failures
Sixty-seven years of promised hopes and promises commandeered
Sixty-seven years of terrorizing assaults and tumultuous  assassinations
Sixty-seven years of  horrifying  remembrances and holocaustic reverberations  

Sixty-seven years of status quo appeasement and structured apartheid 

Wednesday, July 30, 2014


Gaza casualties by Israeli indiscriminate bombardment in July, 2014

My heart bleeds
My eye tears
My mind cannot comprehend
My soul screams to no end
I sit In shock
My jaws lock
My head does shake
A gesture to God my arms make
I scream why
To the One up high

Fadi Zanayed
July 30,2014 6:05am
Lombard, Illinois

Friday, July 25, 2014

I Threw My Stone

By: Fadi Zanayed (written during the first Intifadah)

I dreamt I was throwing a stone
I heard it whiz through the air
I saw it striking the helicopter
I ran toward it
I wedged a pipe in its tail
I saw the Israeli soldiers shooting
I watched the bullet hit the child
I carried the child to a place of worship
I heard the soldiers coming
I entered one door than another
I came upon a meeting room
I saw the Star of David
I boldly asked for help
I was shunned away
I became more determined
I felt my adrenaline kick in
I ran out to an exit and the sun
I clutched the boy tighter
I saw familiar faces
 I looked around
I saw their happiness
I shouted " This boy needs help!!
I saw no reaction
I observed the abundance
I destroyed the picnic table
I arose from my sleep
I wrote down this poem
I threw my stone

Saturday, February 22, 2014

As I Wonder

The aroma awakens the senses
As Dad cooks the foul beans
Fresh peeled and diced garlic are scattered
As a lemon is squeezed into the bowl
Parsley is used to garnish
As virgin olive oil is poured
My mouth salivates
As my mother's freshly baked bread comes out of the oven
Hot tea is boiling
As we gather around the kitchen table
My thoughts are of those wonderful mornings
As I wonder why my foul doesn’t taste the same
I long for those days in Ramallah
As I remember the camaraderie of our neighbors
I long for plucking fresh succulent figs
As I remember our farm filled with fruits
I long for the day where I can return

As I wonder if peace will fill the air

Monday, February 10, 2014

Camp David Sentiments

(This poem was written on December 4, 2011)

The scene was set in the summer of 1978
President Carter invited Middle East rivals
To Camp David for more than a debate
But Egypt and Israel were the only arrivals

I felt then as I do now
That the PLO missed an opportunity
I could not understand how
How Palestinians could than avoid scrutiny

To dramatize our plight and gain international recognition
PLO member organizations did acts
Like the Munich Olympics’ devastation
I call it as it is, these are the facts

Attending the summit I stated
Would legitimize our struggle
For this I was actually hated
I was in a political toggle

Yasir Arafat had no agenda to hatch
As Israel refused to participate with a PLO delegation
Israel will only accept PLO members if they were to attach
To attach to a Jordanian configuration

There was a call to accept UN Resolution 242
And to amend the PLO charter
In exchange for US recognition and credibility too
But Arafat’s reluctance took us backwards and farther

The outcome of Camp David was a tragedy
Begin offered autonomy after 5 years
Isolated Egypt as if it were a commodity
And thereby dividing Arab unity with shears

In 1980 I advocated for Israeli recognition
When I visited the University of Illinois campus
I was confronted with dejection
Called a traitor, ruffled and put in a fuss

Camp David was not ideal I must admit
But Palestinians did not participate
Its fate could have been refit
I wonder, as I sit here and meditate

Fadi Zanayed
December 4, 2011

8:04 am

Pre-Camp David Sentiment

(This poem was written on December 4, 2011)

As a youngster in the 1970s I wanted to know
So I listened to the news at every avenue
Sat and engrossed myself about our foe
No end was the limit of my mind’s view

I read articles about Palestine
In magazines, newspapers and books
Listened as elders would discuss after we did dine
A discussion on Palestine was bait on hooks

Elders cheered as hijackings took place
But I knew that it was wrong
Frustration was painted on their face
As their chins dropped making it long

As I reflect about my father and his generation
They lost Palestine, not one fought in the 1948 war
Not one of them reminisced about an inspiration
Not one story about a military story or something more

Recently I learned of an Iraqi Colonel’s 1948 story
His command was attacking and gaining strength
Without cause his orders came from a phony
A King ordered him to cut the rope’s length

Black gold was pouring out of the Gulf’s well
Using it to our advantage should have been a plan
The Arab Oil Embargo of 1974 they tried to sell
Long gas lines exasperated the American

During the Yon kipper War, OPEC wanted to drive a wedge
Between America and Israel
But it really did strengthen Israel’s edge
Their powerful lobby was and still is for real

So in 1978 this was the scene before Camp David
As Sadat, Carter and Begin met
Tensions were very vivid
And my hopes were set

Fadi Zanayed
December 4, 2011

5:19 am


(This poem was written in 2010.)

The reader may not want to read this poem
For the descriptions herein may make you cry
It may even move you away from your apathy
So if you are prepared to activate your soul, continue to read
But if you are going to read this poem and walk away
Walk away without any feeling--then stop, stop right here

Last night I received an email
Horrific pictures of an atrocity
Inflicted by a people, mighty as can be
Against a defenseless people, weak as can be seen

There is this one picture out of many that horrifies me
It is of a dismembered body part that is unrecognizable
Is it a leg or an arm?
Is it a part of a stomach, buttock and leg?
Is it parts of the legs and half a buttock?
You cannot really tell

The middle part of this body part is missing the skin
Internal organs or intestines or bones or all three are exposed
The color red is significantly present
The curvy maligned internal parts render the severity of the atrocity

What barrage of shells exploded upon this body?
Was it a guided missile?
Why would a missile hit this person?
What did he or she do to deserve this dismemberment?

Is it a part of a child?
A mother
A grandmother
A sister
On the other hand, is she a mother, grandmother, sister all in one?

Is it your brother?
Your father
Your grandfather
On the other hand, is he a father, grandfather, brother all in one?

Do you care?