From the Diary of an Almost-Four-Year –Old

From the Diary of an Almost-Four-Year –Old

By Hanan Mikha’il Ashrawi (Palestinian Poet)

Tomorrow, the bandages

will come off. I wonder

will I see half an orange,

half an apple, half my

mother's face

with my one remaining eye?

I did not see the bullet

but felt its pain

exploding in my head.

His image did not

vanish, the soldier

with a big gun, unsteady

hands, and look in

his eyes

I could not understand

I can see him so clearly

with my eyes closed,

it could be that inside our heads

we each have one spare set

of eyes

to make up for the ones we lose

Next month, on my birthday,

I'll have a brand new glass eye,

maybe things will look round

and fat in the middle—

I've gazed through all my marbles,

they made the world look strange.

I hear a nine-month old

has also lost an eye,

I wonder if my soldier

shot her too—a soldier

looking for little girls who

look him in the eye—

I’m old enough , almost four,

I've seen enough of life,

but she's just a baby

who didn't know any better.

Hanan Mikha’il Ashrawi is a prominent Palestinian academic, poet,  politician, and human rights activist. She became known worldwide for her efforts in Palestinian-Israeli negotiation toward peace.

Someone forwarded me an image of a Syrian girl shot in the eye and that is what triggered me to post this poem which I had read in an anthology of poems from the middle east titled ‘the flag of childhood’.

This is a touching, tender poem replete with moments of  artless innocence that shows the empathetic and mature  mindset of a  four-year-old child shot in the eye.  

ADULT

ADULT 

By LINDA GREGG 

I've come back to the country where I was happy 
changed. Passion puts no terrible strain on me now. 
I wonder what will take the place of desire. 
I could be the ghost of my own life returning 
to the places I lived best. Walking here and there, 
nodding when I see something I cared for deeply. 
Now I'm in my house listening to the owls calling 
and wondering if slowly I will take on flesh again.

Linda Gregg is one of the best American poets. As Joseph Brodsky, the Russian Nobel Laureate, described of her- “The blinding intensity of Ms. Gregg's lines stains the reader's psyche the way lightning or heartbreak do.” 

The theme of this poem is the return of an adult to the terrain where she lived a carefree and happy life. The reminders of them are all around. The only thing is that you are not the same person. You find yourself a devitalized apparition waiting for a rebirth.