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

Fearing A Child’s Mind

A Palestinian child sits on the curb

Surrounded by no less than 4 Apartheid Israeli soldiers

Their rifles pointed at him

He is looking up at them with bewilderment

Yet courage is not far from his structure

His eyes question his detention

Yet fear is not projected

His hands are hidden

Maybe a rock is in his hand

Are the Apartheid Israeli Soldiers in fear?

In fear of a rock in his hand

Or are they afraid of what is brewing inside his mind

-Fadi Zanayed

February 27, 2012

6:29 pm - Chicago

(© 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.)

Flocks

A storm approaches

From where I do not know

The thunder is loud

The lighting lights up the sky

                Flocks of birds

                At different altitudes

                Are flying in and

                About the storm

                                At a high altitude

                                There is a distressed flock

                                Being battered by bolts of lighting

                                Yet they continue to fly directly into the storm

At a much lower level

A determined flock fly close to the earth

Hail strikes at their wings

Yet they continue in defiance

                Above the clouds

                There is an overstocked flock

                They fly in every direction

                Unconcerned with anything around them

                                Closely in front of the storm

                                There is a healthier flock

                                A few try to fly back but are unsuccessful

                                The others do not even bother




(  © 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.)

Could It Be Her

Could it be her?                               

Over there next to that child  

That elderly woman with the embroidered dress

It looks like the one Grandma always wore

The traditional dress which represents our hometown

The detail, the patterns, the style are distinctive to each town

Could it be her?

Look at those eyes they look like Grandma’s eyes

They are hazel brown eyes rich with color

There is happiness and sadness within those eyes

For deep within them are our memories

The Nakba, the Six-Day War, our family history

Could it be her?

Her face looks so much like Grandma’s face

There is smoothing warmth in her look

The complexion, the lines, the wrinkles, each tell a story

Like the rings of a tree they have a history

Her wedding day, my father’s birth, death of Grandpa

Could it be her?

Her hands look like Grandma’s hands

Look at her hands all aged, spotted and dark

Those are the hands of a worker in the fields

Those are the arms that comforted me

The hugs, the kisses while in those arms

Could it be her?

Her voice is much like Grandma’s voice

It’s soft and soothing yet commanding

I slept listening to her voice tell me folk tales

From her words I learned who I am

Our traditions, our culture, our existence as a people

Could it be her?

It could not be for my Grandma has long passed on

Her dress still lives in our clothing

Her eyes still give us vision

Her face still gives us hope

Her arms still gives us strength

Could it be her?

It is her within us all

We are her through our traditions

We are her through our folk tales

We are her through our weddings

We are her, we are her, we are her

           Attorney Fadi Zanayed, June, 1998


(  © 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.)

Fly Bird Fly

Picture Credit:  https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150253161370814&set=a.10150253142165814.321090.524025813&type=3&l=e4ffae0bcc&theater

Whistle in the night

Somber moment without light

I welcome the song of the bird

For days the only sound I’ve heard

The song of freedom chirping in the air

Ironically I am a prisoner of despair

Fly bird fly in support of those who care for you

Go and fight for what we are due

Prosper mentally in our cause

Become a leader who knows when to pause

Build conviction, honor and determination

Build democracy into a nation

Fly bird fly letting your wings stretch across the sky

Encompass within your wings all within our pie

The whole without all its sum is but a part

Be a leader who is brave and smart

Build a consensus while respecting the call

The call to honor and respect for us all

My captors have brought supper for me to eat

Stay and feast before the duty you have to meet

Whistle in the night

Then I’ll know your path is right

Remember me as I linger in jail

Rescue me before I grow old and frail

I will be with you night and day

I am your conscience in the words you say

Bless the children who throw the stone

It is in their eyes that we see what we own

Condemn the hypocrisy of those who occupy

They see not the history of why they cry

Be good, self-righteous and fair

People will listen over the air

Neither harm nor be harmed in the course you take

Rather set your mark and plant your stake

For here is the line you must draw

While respecting international law

The world will then see us within our right

Using civil disobedience not our might

Fly bird fly letting your energy soar

Free me to Palestine once more

           Fadi Zanayed


(  © 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.)

I Am A Palestinian Eagle

I am a Palestinian eagle

Perched upon the tallest olive tree

I see everything as far as it can be seen

But I see not into the distance

Rather I see into the past and the future

I am a Palestinian eagle

I have seen hilltop settlements eating my land

I have seen olive groves uprooted and destroyed

I have seen tanks aiming at children with stones

I have seen my brethren fight against each other

I am a Palestinian eagle

I see my people imprisoned collectively

I see a Swiss chess carving of my land

I see a checkpoint siege of my people

I see unacceptable zones of occupation

I am a Palestinian eagle

I see no end to negotiations

I see children throwing stones

I see woman taking to the streets

I see churches and mosques preaching

I am a Palestinian eagle

I see the international boycott of Israel

I see UN recognition of Palestine

I see World Court tribunals for Israeli leaders

I see a democratic Palestinian state

                                Fadi Zanayed

                                November 23, 2011

                                8:57 am

(  © 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.)

The Olive Tree Howls For Justice

See the Palestinian lady hugging a tree

Not just any tree but an olive tree

See the olive branches cut to the ground

As an Israeli soldiers stand around

See the bulldozer which did the massacre

The massacre of an olive tree acre 

Listen to the agony coming from her face

As the soldiers stand in disgrace

Listen to the tree as it stretches out its arms

As if it is calling out to God to see the harms

Listen to the wind as it blows in the sky

Howling injustice my oh my!

Fadi Zanayed

December 8, 2011

1:45 pm CT

(  © 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.)