Sitting on my bed,

with a red apple with my hand,

while looking at a map in front of me,

I am eager to eat my fruit,

but that map takes my attention.

The map of Palestine!



I gape at it,

for seconds.

My eyes are watering,

My heart is melting.

My hands are trembling,

My forehead is sweating.



I see Gaza isolated,

Jerusalem separated,

the west bank eliminated,

chaos created,

the case complicated.



I cannot speak up,

or write up,

for reasons we know.

The only way to criticise or to oppose though,

is through my mind.



In my mind,

I curse the occupation,

its oppression,

nd its crimes.

I curse our kaleidoscopic political parties,

their hypocrisy,

and their lies.



Mohammed Arafat

06-09-2019

Jerusalem, will of Man, of Ishmael, and not Isaac
Dome of the Rock and not House of God
A constant thorn and not peace of the Earth
We weep as those who wept at the Second Temple

Jerusalem, a lure, a trap, a stumbling block, a sieve
******* to false prophets and worldly kings
As Ishmael sent away, so shall Jerusalem be exiled
For One greater than the Temple is here: Immanuel

Jerusalem, Bride of God, shall descend from above
Trumpet blasts in skies, the world shall see and mourn
All Israel gathered and her enemies judged
The kingdom of the world becomes the kingdom of God

I believe what is true but knows not truth
Instead I feel truth is what I believed
Most believe what they feel, instinctively
But I, without reasons, cannot believe

Alas reasons found on self evidence
As in what is and is not cannot be
Conjectures they are if truly honest
But axioms worked in all mathematics

Is truth then not of reason but of faith?
For does not ear test words as tongue tastes food?
Surely then we do have some means to know
Even so, must not faith be tested true?

For faith is circular: a conviction
Compelled by strength and conviction of will;
A will constrained, by flesh, susceptible
To unknown beings in spiritual realms

But what if this being is God? And faith,
Conviction of the certainty of things,
Holy Spirit’s gift, marking election,
Affirming justification in God.

Truth by two or more witnesses is sure
Do we attest the Holy Spirit true?
A blasphemous thought perhaps, but prophets
Led to lie to kings and shown to be false.

Thus ignorant sages showed assurance
Lies solely in God’s grace, mercy and love
And in his faithfulness to the elect
Declared in Israel again and again

In my search for truth, I was led to faith,
The faithfulness of God, truth’s ultimate rock
His gifts unchanging, irrevocable
And confirms the fear of the Lord is truth

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

A wall will never stop the spread of disease;
Even if you are called the civilized west,
Banksy won't and can't make the cries to cease.
Cries from forefront clashes, from throwing rocks...
Hand over one's heart,
We all profit off; selling outdated Glocks.

Mapping out the labyrinth tale with a frag
Minotaur's keep the fight alive in this hell
A mechanic social manipulation
With hearts of Palestine in confiscation
Teenage angst never did pay off well.

One thing to comfort the Jew,
They're going to die anyway,
And so will you.

A sky full of sulfur
Coming down on little kids.
These aren't stars,
These are toxic tears.
These aren't stars,
You carry on your flags,
What shines are shells, grenades and frags.

Misuse of weaponry, a national trait;
Once second world war victims,
Now a first world charade.

It is the end of the season,
but it seems very warm outside.
People wear T-shirts and shorts,
while I am under three blankets and more.

My feet and hands iced,
just like the iced hearts and faces of those,
seeing civilian homes demolished,
kids having funerals at an early age,
fetuses dying inside their mothers’ wombs.

Just like the silenced world,
feigning pity and love,
while there is no love,
amid this chaos and strife,
of the broken crying families,
and their unspoken tragedies.

Just like the moonless cold nights,
the people of Gaza can’t sleep at,
and like the empty streets,
having no lights,
having no laughs or smiles,
but the ghosts of the war.

Just like the cold-blooded murderers,
bombing and shelling everywhere,
with no mercy,
with no love,
with no peace,
heartlessly,
with their heavy weapons.

Just like those spreading fear and horror,
terrorizing women and kids,
snatching their joy,
childhood,
womanhood,
and their life.

Mohammed Arafat
05-05-2019

Son of Ham, slave of slaves, reigned.
Humiliated, but unrepentant, defiant, and unfearing,
They asked for one of theirs to be king.
Saul, anointed and prophesied, crowned king.
David, feigned madness, fought for the Philistines.