By Dan Lieberman

May I Show You my City
A short story.

A Palestinian man returns to his birth village.
 

Voice Speak to Us
A 3-act play.
Poetry and prose present.
the history of the Middle East crisis.

MIDDLE EAST CRISIS ARTICLES 

VIDEOS

POETRY AND PROSE 

 The Greatest Replacement

What is now called Israel, and should rightfully be called Palestine, is the result of the greatest replacement of the last centuries. 

 
Israel is a Jewish Problem

Militarized Israel has seized control of the mindset of the Jewish people. Israel is a Jewish problem and the Jewish people, if they want to be considered a just, humane, and peace loving people, have a responsibility to resolve that problem.

Image courtesy of North Texas Daily

Palestine/Israel Crisis Resolved 

Attacking the Israel government is wounding; attacking enterprise Israel can be fatal.

Remember the Name – Sheikh Jarrah

Sheikh Jarrah has left a permanent imprint on history. The world will long remember the name – Sheikh Jarrah.

Image courtesy of arabnews.com

 
Combating the False Anti-antisemites

 

Attempt by Israel supporters to engineer a self-serving International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism into a tool for silencing legitimate criticism of Israel provoked a series of webinars from those offended by the insidious behavior.

Image courtesy of Middle East Monitor

The One State – A Critique

 Aware that the One-state is a contentious issue and no plan will satisfy a majority of contenders, Jonathan Kuttab solicited comments to his book, Beyond The Two-State Solution.

Image courtesy of Council on Foreign Relations

Israel as a Criminal Enterprise 

Examination of Zionist behavior supports the label of criminal enterprise.

Image courtesy of Middle East Monitor

 The One-State Deposition Before Imposition

One-state cannot be achieved without changing Israel’s legal and administrative structures -  difficult tasks.  Deposition precedes imposition; destroying the framework that supports Israel allows a new foundation for constructing a one-state,the natural state.  

Image courtesy of Washingtoninstitute.org 
 

Crisis Solution - Return the Region to United Nations Resolution 181  

|If the thesis that Israel views the situation as “all or nothing” is correct, then the world has a choice - allow Israel to gain all, or right the injustices committed by Israel, which means returning to a more proper 1947 Partition Plan 181.

Image courtesy of World Politics Review

 

 The Steal of the Century

Touted as a fresh approach to Middle East Peace, the plan is a stale continuation of Israel’s peace policy, which captures Palestinian lands and forces the remaining land holders into a surrounded enclave, where they will be carefully guarded.

 Image courtesy of rawstory.com

 

The Night Has Fallen Down
Rim Banna

We Never Left Palestine 
A poem by Susan Abulhawa

Story Of Palestine
Emma Askar Sings For Palestine   

Fadwa Touqan             
The Deluge and the Tree

When the hurricane swirled and spread its deluge of dark evil
onto the good green land 'they' gloated.
The western skies
reverberated with joyous accounts:
"The Tree has fallen !
The great trunk is smashed! The hurricane leaves no life in the Tree!"

Had the Tree really fallen?
Never! Not with our red streams flowing forever, not while the wine of our thorn limbs fed the thirsty roots,
Arab roots alive, tunneling deep, deep, into the land!

When the Tree rises up, the branches
shall flourish green and fresh in the sun
the laughter of the Tree shall leaf
beneath the sun
and birds shall return

Undoubtedly, the birds shall return.
The birds shall return.

Khalil Sakakini              
Memoirs

Arab villages in the vicinity of the southern suburbs of Jerusalem -- Battir, Walajeh, Beit Safafa, Malha, Sharafat, Beit Jala, El-Khader -- provided us with fresh vegetables and fruit throughout the year. When I think of Battir I recall the peasant women with straight backs who stopped at our house in the early morning in summer carrying on their heads round, flat, dark-brown baskets heaped high with those purple, longish egg-plants of Battir, carefully arranged in tiers. The names of Walajeh and El-Khader bring back to my mind the sweet "jandaly" grape which was our favourite as children. From Beit Safafa a kindly, round-faced elderly woman brought us freshly-picked young marrows, cool and moist with dew, their yellow flowers still attached to them.

When I think of these Arab villages I cannot help but feel nostalgic for the way of life in Jerusalem prior to 1948. It was a personal, human relationship that connected us Jerusalemites with the villages surrounding the city. I remember vividly the early morning scene during the summer holiday when peasant women, proudly carrying their wares on their heads, would arrive at our house. Father would help them put down their heavy baskets and they would then sit down on the floor and, smiling up at us, invite my mother to pick her choice of fruit and vegetables at leisure.

Fouzi al-Asmar             
Wind Driven Reed

Of what benefit is it, if man were to gain the whole world
But lose the green almond in his father’s orchard?

Of what benefit is it,
If man were to drink coffee in Paris
But none in his mother’s house?

Of what benefit is it, if man were to tour the whole world
But lose the flowers on the hills of his
native land

He gains nothing but deadly silence
Within the hearts of the living.

 You look through the mirror of lands not your own
And see your exiled face;
You recognize your face
Despite the deadly dust of travel
From Jaffa, to Lydda, to Haifa,
Through the Mediterranean to exile;
You recognize your face
And try to deny that face!

You worship your own face
Even though exile has obliterated its
features;
The hangman of the twentieth century
assumes the countenance
Of the eternal face!

 You close your eyes
To worship your face in the darkness of
this century.
You deny…Your worship,
You deny…Your worship,
And the God of truth cries to your face:

He who denies his face
Is renounced by all the birds of paradise
in this universe,
And those whom silence has turned mute
Will never be heard by the roses of the
field
He who kills the nightingale of his dreams
Will be buried in the forgotten graveyard  of the living.

You open your eyes
And see the face of your country in themirror of exile.  
The deadly silence in the hearts of the
living
Strips away the skin of your face;
It cuts and dries your flesh,
Then hangs what remains on poles
Under the forgotten sun of the West.