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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Here We Shall Stay (1966)
by Tawfiq Zayyad

As though we were twenty impossibilities
In Lydda, Ramla, and Galilee

Here we shall stay
Like a brick wall upon your breast
And in your throat
Like a splinter of glass, like spiky cactus
And in your eyes
A chaos of fire.

Here we shall stay
Like a wall upon your breast
Washing dishes in idle, buzzing bars
Pouring drinks for our overlords
Scrubbing floors in blackened kitchens
To snatch a crumb for our children
From between your blue fangs.

Here we shall stay
A hard wall on your breast.
We hunger
Have no clothes
We defy
Sing our songs
Sweep the sick streets with our angry dances
Saturate the prisons with dignity and pride
Keep on making children
One revolutionary generation
After another
AS though we were twenty impossibilities
In Lydda, Ramla, and Galilee!


Here we shall stay.
Do your worst.
WE guard the shade
Of olive and fig.
We blend ideas
Like yeast in dough.
Our nerves are packed with ice
And hellfire warms our heart.

If we get thirsty
We'll squeeze the rocks.
If we get hungry
We'll eat dirt
And never leave.
Our blood is pure
But we shall not hoard it.
Our past lies before us
Our present inside us
Our future on our backs.
As though we were twenty impossibilities
In Lydda, Ramla and Galilee
O living roots hold fast
And--still--reach deep in the earth.


It is better for the oppressor
To correct his accounts
Before the pages riffle back
"To every deed..."--listen
To what the Book says.


Generally speaking, a howling wilderness does not howl: it is the imagination of the traveler that does the howling.
— Henry David Thoreau