(A poem dedicated to my mother)

It was weirdly warm

the night I was born

Was it the shriek of my mother?

or it was the hot weather?


She was as young as I am now

talking to me despite the thou-

sands of moments of her pain

she couldn’t easily contain


The only little thing I did,

was babbling while in bed

She understood me though

but I will never know

the agony she went through

to make me the way I grew


You cared for me every single day

and for you, I will always pray

My own mother, I left you not so early,

You are the one I love so dearly.

Mohammed S Arafat

05-01-2020

I am from a place,
where violence takes place,
by outsiders and insiders.
I oppose horror
terror,
melancholy,
and every fear chasing me.
I barely can, though.

In my thoughts, however,
I flee the darkness,
the hate and the arrogance.
I run off the imposed siege along with my tears,
with my good and bad memories,
with my stolen childhood,
and my ruined adulthood,
with my beating heart full of holes.

Into the farthest city, I want to descend,
like a prophet, an angel or a human.
I just want to descend anyways,
into Jerusalem, the city of peace,
and righteous.

I walk through the lanes of its old town,
among the stalls of its old markets,
built of limestone.

With my wide-open eyes,
I mediate the high woody gates,
closed for hundreds of years,
I stare at its historic walls,
several armies from different times,
tied their mares to, across old ages.

I gape at the Holy Sepulcher Church,
the Omar Mosque located behind it,
and the mounts beside.
I sense the worshipers all around,                                                                                        Muslims, Jews, Christians
praying and thanking God,
for the peace, he gives them, daily.

I get into the deep alleyways,
full of people with and without Kofeyyas.
I look at the golden Dome of the Rock,
and the Al-Aqsa Mosque,
from outside, insanely.

I take off my plastic slippers at the entrance,
after checking all details around with my five senses.
Getting ready to pray too, I enter the holy mosque.
I raise my hands,
kneel,
and pray,
for peace and for love,
in Jerusalem,
and around Jerusalem.

Mohammed Arafat

03-03-2020

Every morning I get up not finding you around,
or me around you.
‘Where are you?’ I whisper to myself like talking to you,
mindlessly.

A thousand men or more cannot love you more than I do,
as I grow restless, longing for your company.
I bless the rains down in your farms,
the oil squeezed from your ****** olives of the East,
the grapes and the citrus fruits of your Western fields.
I praise the soil under your blossomed orange trees in April,
and the green pasture grass dairy goats raised by.
I sanctify your sand thousands of knights walked on repeatedly,
throughout old and modern ages,
not forgetting the Dead Sea livening my five senses,
and the Dome of the Rock of your Capital.

I wrap myself with the chequered black and white Kofeyyah,
walking everyday being proud,
murmuring and talking to mysefl,
“nothing can drag me away from you, Palestine!”

Mohammed Arafat
02-05-2019

Our first day together,
wasn’t a normal date like lovers’.
I was happy to be with you,
and to be yours.
I knew nothing.
I saw nothing,
but I felt the beats of your heart,
against mine,
when you hugged me.

I didn’t hear anything,
but I heard you praying to God,
that I never become intractable,
and to be someone who will always love you.

You were always there for me.
I was selfish, and moody but in love with you.
I some days hurt you,
and you healed me.
I sometimes ruined your days,
and you fixed mine.

Days and nights go by pretty too fast,
and I didn’t forget your voice or how you look.
Holding your photo while in bed at present,
I just wish the day comes soon, and it will come,
so I can be on my knees beside your knees,
kissing your blessing hands,
just like how you rocked my cradle at night for years and years,
while singing and praying for me.
My mother, Endlessly, unhesitantly and immortally I say it, and will always do,
I love you today and everyday.

Mohammed Arafat
17-04-2019

I am walking under the crescent,
thinking about the past and the present.
My hands in my pockets,
of my winter coat.
It’s cold,
so am I,
inside the warm coat.
Different shadows appear and fade,
all around me.
in my right,
in my left,
in front of me,
and behind me.
They come and go.
I think someone is trailing me,
from behind,
Or even above.
No one is around, I look.
It’s just my shadow.
I realize everyone leaves but not the shadows.

Mohammed Arafat
22-02-2020

“Long live Palestine!”
we chanted every morning at primary school.
We were innocent,
Focused against the occupation,
hate,
violence
and oppression.
We truly loved our country.
We never forgot the keys
to our original homes from which we were forced.
We all were Palestinians.

Until things changed.

They taught us to love Palestine above all else,
to die for it,
to sacrifice what we had for it,
to oppose the occupation.
And we did
but they didn’t!

Instead they fought each other,
dividing our loyalties,
splitting our identity into factions:
green, red, black and white.
Each party stole a color from our flag,
Turning our unity into a war of hues.

Our resources they plundered.
Our hearts they broke.
Yet on our behalf they say they speak.
They transformed our patriotism
into self-destruction.

We still dream of our occupied cities,
But now there is more for which we long:
Peace, a decent life, dignity.
Before, our oppressors were the thieves;
Now our own people have joined them.
For unity we pray—one flag once again.
Long live Palestine!

Mohammed Arafat
24-02-2019

I am going out to pay my dreams a visit
It will be short, upping my thumb
They tell me words and I tell them some
I shan’t be late, you too come?

Arguments will happen and begin
They or I might sulk
At the end of today
I want them to win
not over me, but over their fellows.

Mohammed S Arafat
28-03-2020

While the sun is setting,
I walk by the dazzling ocean,
thinking,
imagining,
talking to myself,
to the storms inside me,
to the volcanos and the quakes,
talking to my anger,
to my sorrow,
and to every feeling left in me.

It is the end of a new day,
a long one but very short,
full of drama and lies,
with no smiles from those around me.

I walk by the ocean,
while shedding tears,
trying to hide them from the passers-by.
I do not want kids to see them,
so they don’t think men cry.
I keep my dark glasses on.

I walk by the ocean,
not believing in promises,
suspecting the beautified words,
from the fake people.
I walk not believing in fake smiles,
fake laughs or even jokes.

The twighlight gleams and is gone now.
unsmiling people around me are gone too.
After diving down several times in front of me,
seagulls swirling above go to feed their babies,
happily!
They stop singing their daily songs.
Fishermen with dusty boats go homes sweating with joy.
Rich people turn on the lights of the silent yachts to start their night.
The high waves calm down.
The moon is waning crescent,
with a dimmed light.
They left me alone.
I am alone,
all alone,
but my only friend is my heart,
That they hurt.

Mohammed Arafat
26-02-2019

I am from a place,
where violence takes place,
by outsiders and insiders.
I oppose horror
terror,
melancholy,
and every fear chasing me.
I barely can, though.

In my thoughts, however,
I flee the darkness,
the hate and the arrogance.
I run off the imposed siege along with my tears,
with my good and bad memories,
with my stolen childhood,
and my ruined adulthood
with my beating heart full of holes.

Into the farthest city, I want to descend,
like a prophet, an angel or a human.
I just want to descend anyways,
into Jerusalem, the city of peace,
and righteous.

I walk through the lanes of its old town,
among the stalls of its old markets,
built of limestone.

With my wide-open eyes,
I mediate the high woody gates,
closed for hundreds of years,
I stare at its historic walls,
several armies from different epochs,
tied their mares to, across old ages.

I gape at the Holy Sepulcher Church,
the Omar Mosque located opposite it,
and Al-Buraq Wall.
I sense the worshipers all around,
praying and thanking God,
for the peace, he gives them, daily.

I get into the deep alleyways,
full of people with and without Kofeyyas.
I look at the golden Dome of the Rock,
and the Al-Aqsa Mosque,
from outside, insanely.

I take off my plastic slippers at the entrance,
after checking all details around with my five senses.
Getting ready to pray too, I enter the holy mosque.
I raise my hands,
kneel,
and pray,
for peace and for love,
in Jerusalem,
and around Jerusalem.

Mohammed Arafat
04-05-2019

Rain is over,
but I see raindrops all over the window,
while I am wrapped with three blankets,
and the fourth folded beside me.
It’s getting colder,
and I am getting warmer.
From the window,
I see neighbors having a campfire,
in their backyard,
With their kids around them.
I am warm, they are warm,
but thousands out there are not.
I am thinking of them all…
I am thinking of them all…

We Are The Majority

With hopes to be leaders
our mothers gave birth to us
not at the same time
We aren’t with the same age
but from the same generation
the 90s.

We do politics and fight
We cook Shakshuka at night
We study with no light
We do everything
but not the elections right


It’s their first and last call
They try every spring and fall
to create an elections hope
but it’s a high high wall

They are seated well
They smoke and chill
and sleep in a hotel
If we talk
we are sentenced to hell!

Is it our fault?
We are the majority
Please listen and halt
We need clarity

Mohammed Arafat
03-03-2020

Listening to Swan Lake of Tchaikovsky,
I tried to relax.
I was petting my calico cat,
with which I share my room.

Storming the Music,
news from the radio,
about the people of Gaza,
messed with my exhausted mind.
Dark holes swallowed my heart,
which beat so fast.

Rockets hither and thither.
Bombs awakening the sleep.
Kids crying and screaming.
Sleepless nights.
Women weeping.
Hospitals ready to receive injuries and dead.
Houses destroyed and collapsed.
Trees uprooted.
That was what the radio reported.

I did not look at photos or videos,
since I know they are the same.
I did nothing,
but raised my hands,
closed my eyes,
and opened my hearts full of holes.

I talked to myself and it believed what I said;
We fall,
but we rise again.
We fail,
but we succeed again.
We get attacked,
but we ask for peace.
We die,
but we live again and again.

Mohammed Arafat
27-03-2019

I am awake
It was a long deep sleep
I try to open my eyes to see the world
Hopefully a change.
Curtains up
Window closed
(Inhaling)
(Exhaling)
I barely can breathe
My chest is tight
Heaviness?
Anxiety?
I don’t know!

Through the window
the sky is glorious and cerulean
The sun looks at me beside the rainbow
But it does not smile like before!
Wondering why.
Where are the birds?
Where is their early-morning songs?
They used to fight over partners on that high tree.
They no longer fall in love?
They used to travel deep into that forest to feed their kids.
They no longer make love?

Our crowded street is empty
No stray dogs barking and chasing cats
No cats hunting mice
No mice climbing in trash
No trash in front of houses at most

A ghost town?
A haunted neighbourhood?
What is the matter?

I am shackled in here
In silence
In quietness
No noises like before
but the sound of silence
No little fights between siblings
No calls from my mother for breakfast

No.. no.. no..

I wake up from my sleep!
It was just a nightmare
Fortunately, I am alive with no Corona
The house is not silent
The neighbourhood is not haunted
Nothing is the matter

Mohammed Arafat
07-03-2020

Mirror hung on my wall
I am staring at you
A conversation starts
between us two

You:
Ununited the world is
You have hate to one another
Rage sneaks into your lives
to your nerves and blood
They love you when they need you
They leave you when you need them

The strong prey on the weak
The rich steal the poor
You have no right to speak
Patronage plays the role

Families divided
Decisions decided
Bad presided
You misguided

I come for a reason
to make you thankful
to stop the treason
and believe in handful

Me:
You came to teach us
but with a big fuss
Our families are pretty ill
Please, teach, but don’t ****!

Mohammed Arafat
25-03-2020

On this breezy evening,
fall leaves swish.
Stars twinkle in the skies,
behind puffy clouds,
with no full moon around.

I now remember the night time,
when it all happened,
years ago.
Black and grey was what I felt.
I can’t forget how it started,
and how it ended.

I remember the anguish and pain,
the only emotions that remain,
and every detail of that moment.

At this time every year,
I look at the skies and say,
“It won’t happen again.”
“It won’t happen again.”

Mohammed Arafat
November 9th, 2020

I look here, I look there

trying to compare

between two places

One once was a home

and the other refuses to be one.

One is surrounded by visible and invisible high walls

and many brutalities.

The other isolates me with strict laws and policies.

Every night, I sleep hoping for a morning with a refuge.

During my sleep, sweet dreams cross my mind,

but they are faced with ugly nightmares.  

It’s complex.

I wake up from my nightmares,

and the two places are the same.

One is isolated,

and the other isolates me,

I try to find my refuge though.



Mohammed Arafat

14-04-2020

While Praying, Hymns for Jerusalem

Like the rest of worshippers,
I pray to God,
every morning,
every noon,
and every evening.

On a prayer rug made in Jerusalem,
I kneel in passion,
like nobody else does,
giving up my pride,
crying while talking to God,
while connecting to him,
while doing my best,
so he can accept my prayers,
in this world full of oppression,
arrogance,
and injustice.

I remember the old city,
When looking at the prayer rug.
I can imagine every corner it has,
and every alley.
As if in front of me,
I see prayers worshipping the same God I worship,
but with different hearts,
hardened and softened.

I am still weeping.
None is around me to wipe my tears.
I am all alone,
but with my God,
talking to him,
and crying while bowing down to him,
Not because I am scared of him.
no!
He isn’t scary.
But because I am honoured to talk to him.
He is merciful.

I prostrate,
with seven of my bones touching the ground,
like all Muslims all over the world.
Closing my eyes,
I see the high walls dividing our lands,
our farms,
our people,
and dividing Jerusalem,
into two,
East and West.

I see checkpoints,
a lot of them,
surrounded with armed soldiers,
and a lot of police dogs,
security checking the prayers,
who come to Jerusalem just to pray,
and to complain to my God.

I prostrate again,
this time I see a light,
a strong one.
My tears ceased.
It seems a light of hope,
God sends me.
telling me occupation will be over,
peace and freedom are coming.


Mohammed Arafat
June 27th, 2019

When none is around me

I find only myself closer.

Silence, silence and then

our memories together appear

like a good-looking ghost

which I hear about in folklore.

It reminds me of the moments

that I can’t forget.

No worries, good memories

The ghost tells me not to weep

because time will not bring relief

after you are deceased.

It’s a big lie!



Mohammed Arafat
11-05-2020