Friday was a day of clarity. I suddenly realized that one of the outstanding highlights of my trip occured on a taxi ride to the village of Nehalin where Bill Mims and I joined Jihan at the women's center for several sessions. I will write more about the discovery of a particular relationship between the Orthodox community of Beitar Elit and the village of Husan. Another revelation which came to me yesterday was the phrase "The LIght in Their eyes". A three part poem came to me and three different looks: Childeren in the rural refugee camp of Aroub, the Nassar family childen of Daoud and Jihan, and the Street Boys of Bethlehem. For your consideration:
CHILDREN OF THE LAND
The Light in Their Eyes
There, in the streets of the Camp
Scattered here and there,
clusters of children playing in the dirty, dusty streets,
suddenly alert to our presence,
coming forward in silent anticipation.
Eyes, looking up from one meter, to heights above
as we walk together, we hear a warm greeting of "Welcome!"
in a tongue which is not their own.
The almond eyes capture their feeings, some innocent,
others with an economic agenda, perhaps yes or not.
Bishara, Nardine and Shadin
The light in their eyes, a glow with
excitement, joy and even hope.
As they grow in music, language and learning,
passed on by the family of nurturing souls that
know no" obstacles which can't be overcome,
and have dreams that must be shared".
One who leads her class in every way
though young, but old in many ways.
She reads a book a day it seems,
then analyzes it's meaning for herself,
which reflects a process of inquiry, questions
and verbs of action that lead to a creative
mind and perhaps answers to a world
full of barriers for her.
Another, now playful but caring,
surrounds her brother's body
with an arm, an embrace, returned laughter
and even a shove.
She plays the piano with such feeling
that belies her age and the sound projects
a spirit from within that others can only hear.
At last, Ebent, whose body never stops
from dawn to dusk,
and whose eyes and mouth engage the bystander
with quiet reference, and awe.
Such a little one, he is, who
poses on the farm's tractor with hope in his eyes
and prophetic words in his mouth, and an
overflowing joy in his heart.
All have light in their eyes.
The Street Boys of Bethlehen
The urban youth who are visible
in the streets, often kicking a ball,
release energy around and within them.
They pause for a moment, as their eyes tell a different story,
one of distress.
Having witnessed the violence of older ones,
on both sides, they seek outlets for frustration, pain, angst and loss.
Whoops, a soccer ball under great velocity speeds
toward my head.
I duck just in time and the ball sails above my head
and down the narrow streets of Bethlehem.
Was action deliberate?
Was pain an end itself?
Or, was it simply happen chance
that my head was in the way of a goal's face?
I'll never know for eyes were not to be seen this time.
Bill
No comments:
Post a Comment