They destroyed the house, confiscated our land and told us to go away.
They said that our very existence was illegal.
Although it is my grandfather’s land.
The clock stopped at sunset, the times in between were long
I wasn’t there but I saw it from the hill because I ran away the night before.
But that’s how it is. The smart ones always flee the night before.
They call people like me „the rescued ones“.
But I’ll come back. Tomorrow, next year, in the next generation.
My children, my grandchildren, in the end I’ll come back.
And if I don’t come back then this land shall be cursed, with all its inhabitants.
Khulud (arab) / Noy (jewish)
written by Shredy Jabarin