My feet never touched your ground.
My toes never thread through your soil.
I’ve never smelled your fragrance.
I have been deprived of the flavor of your earth.
The blood that runs through the veins of my existence is as green as the oil extracted from your olive trees and as red as the fire that burns in your belly for your desire for freedom.
The compassion in my heart is native of your guidance.
The intensity of the connotation of your greetings, be it welcoming or bidding farewell is lost in translation in any other culture because its depth is constructed from Genesis.
And your culture, my God, your culture!
It moves through me mercilessly like a tsunami that grips with intention and force for cleansing and rebirth.
You are FALASTEEN.
You are my mother and my father and my grandfather and his grandfather and his and his and his…..
You are the culmination of every sincere aroma,
Every spice of za3tar , every slice of jibneh, every tray of Shay and nawashif.
Every sabah el khare and every tisbahoo ala khare.
Every inshallah
Every habibi
Every Yuma and Yaba ever spoken.
Your folklore has been fed to me at every wedding, every funeral, every gathering, every crossing. Your legend is inconceivable
And my soul was born of your womb ya habibti Falasteen!
Allah ye 3een 3laki!
-m
mahani 