Letter to an Israeli Mother – A Poem
By Rassool Jibraeel Snyman
You feed your baby
I strap on my bombs
Two faces of the same mirror
I weep as the straps bite into my flesh
The cry of my babies
Ring in my ears
Their bodies on the rubble of your bombs
Tear me apart
Why do you accuse me
When it was you who made me
Creature that I am
That I am to become
I just another victim of political ambition
And ideological perversion
I pity your children
Housed in a house that was mine
The key still framed on my wall
A symbol of my hope
That justice will prevail
And you will give it back to me
Because it is right
And you are just
Caring
Human
And humane
For decades I have withstood
The elements
Winds and rain
Struggled to feed my children
In man made ghettoes
Even as you found love
Made love
Built a home
And raised children
In a home that is mine
I try to forget but I cannot
My memories are in the walls
The ceilings
And floors
A change of paint
Is not a change of truth
Nor ownership
Ownership changes by mutual consent
And good faith
As you sit and gaze out of the window
That overlooks Jerusalem
Are you not in awe of the view
Of the gentle winds that blow
That caress your face
I too sat there once
My favourite spot
And now yours too
Do you not feel my presence
The serenity we could both share
In a land that is generous enough for both of us
Do you not in the still of the night
Or moments of silence
See my ghost wandering
Lamenting
Weeping softly
At the crimes against me
Against my children
Against my people
You love the house deeply
And so do I
At the foot of the stairs
Hung the portrait
Of Hassan and I
Smiling on our wedding day
I am sure yours hangs there too today
It is the best place for it
Brides look so radiant
On their wedding days
A gift from the gods perhaps
Your wedding gown must have been perfect
Your smile brilliant
And your husband dashing
In his black suit
And silk tie
My smile has faded now
Turned to tears of loss
Of longing
Shadows of what was
Do you not pity me
As you celebrate your wedding anniversary
With wine
From grapes grown on my fields
That was taken from me too
Or your relief at the return of your husband
From the sentry post
Where he shot my husband
My neighbor
And the child next door
Will you grieve with me
Another human has died
Another wall of hatred was built
How do I reach out to you
Or you to me
When between us is a concrete monster
Built on our tears
And dispossession
That snakes through the land
Separating us
We who have shared this land for centuries
In peace
In harmony
As neighbors
As friends
Are now apart
Prisoners of circumstance
Victims of time
As you read this letter
You might be sitting
At the corner of the garden
Under the vines
Where I used to sit
When I need moments of solitude
It is right next to the stone
Where young Ahmed fell and bruised his knee
I recall kissing it better
And drying his tears
Undoubtedly your child fell there too
Bruised his knee
And you wiped away his tears
Our memories may well be the same
Sisters of a different kind
Mother to mother
Palestinian to Israeli
Human to human
I ask that you to read my letter
My anguish
My pain
My loss
And just as I take off the straps
Of that which destroys
With a loud bang
And walk away from it
I ask that you give back to me
That which kills slowly
Silently
Insidiously
Painfully
Give me back my home
My life
My dignity
My history
My memories
I ask that you too walk away
From the injustice
Of owning what is mine
And giving our children
A different legacy
Of peace
Of friendship
Of humanity
I ask that you read my letter
Not as an Israeli
But as a caring mother
And decent human being
Mayhap in the eyes of time
Your reply could change our destinies
Break the circles that bind us
And we all find peace
And an assured tomorrow
(South Africa – August 16, 2009; "Songs from the Ether")
