Losing My Innocence

I am walking the streets of Ramallah inside my mind

I am a 5 year old child playing innocently with baby chicks

Everyone around knows me and are very kind

Life was so simple living in the mix

Dad’s work was beautifying

Painting was his stock in trade

The air in Ramallah was purifying

Fresh morning donkey rides were made

To our farm to pick the fruits, especially figs

Then sell them door to door

My brother and I would eat the apricots like pigs

What was left was sold at the market in front of the store

At night I would watch grandma and relatives

Play Basra until the middle of the night

We were happy with our lives

Simplicity it was although the future was not bright

When I was about to turn six years old

I remember people assembled in front of city hall

I remember the goods in the store were all sold

I remember the words that war was the call

I lost my innocence on that faithful day

I realized the world around

Good times would not stay

At night the curfew left no sound

Soldiers occupied Ramallah

Relatives had to leave before nine

I was young but still questioned Allah

How could this be fine?

Dad left for the United States in 1965

He called for us and we left in November, 1967

I left Ramallah behind with a guilty initiative   

Landing at O’Hare Airport was like heaven

                                Fadi Zanayed

                                December 3, 2011

                                5:09 pm

(  © Copyright, Fadi Zanayed.  Publication or distribution of this material is allowed provided its content is not altered and the source and its author are cited.)