Palestinian Spring
Is when I fold my oversized t-shirt outwards so it becomes a pouch,
and pile freshly-picked green almonds,
Sometimes I crunch an almond and suck its sourness
To remind myself of the past winter.
Palestiniann spring is planning for the summer weddings,
and gossiping about our neighbor’s sons;
It is is monads of perfume in the shape of Calicotome villosa (throny broom);
It’s also wild garlic and many many foraging trips with my aunt to the mountain
Where we gather sage, thyme, rosemary and hyssop.
Palestinian spring is long walks amidst the shoulder-high white mustard and cattails,
And usual stops to sneak green loquats from the verdant tree
To pick green peas from the valleys that separate the villages
and to collect daffodils yellow and white.
My grandfather toiled and tilled the land- he knew it by heart,
My dad knows it by heart,
But my heart doesn’t know- it only longs for spring.
A real Arab spring.
A time when I can spend lazy afternoons perched on the balcony cleaning the prickly Akoub
spreading newly gathered Zaatar across the black tarp,
without worrying about death or an abrupt war
Without worrying about soldiers in green khaki pants on the bus
And a man frisking me because I wear my name in Arabic around my neck.
Palestinian spring is easter and dying eggs with daisies cooked over low-fire.
It is death and overcoming death with the ascent-
Following his steps, we celebrate every 30th of March
When we watered the land with 6 beautiful martyrs.
My dad lost his cousin but he never complained-
We protected the land and lost the 23-year old kheir.
Palestinian spring is just another spring:
a season of abundance and prosperity;
A season of rituals and renewal-
But different from any other, when the Palestinian spring comes,
it will last forever.
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Aicha Bint Yusif is a 25-year old Palestinian born in Arrabe near Nazareth. She holds an honors degree in English Language and Literature, and is currently studying Medicine. She holds poetry workshops as part of her project *Poetry is Closer than the Sea*, and her works appeared in World Literature Today (New York) and Rusted Radishes (Beirut).