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a child relates his story
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Posted by mosa sabbagh on August 6, 2003
Here is my story;
A little boy I was
We lived in a little house...
My mother .my sister,and
brother ,father talked about
A stolen land. stolen houses..
Stolen memories
My mother often cried...
But I was too little to understand
I used to play with my friends outside
Until that nightmare..came,
When I grew suddenly, hundreds of years..
Packs of wolves besieged our village:
The whole world was silently watching?
They killed my friends..broke into the house
Our little house..destroyed every thing.
The whole universe was shaking .
They tortured them.. killed them my father
My sister and brother
I was there ..
Yes, I grew hundreds of years ..
I saw that hideous scene in front of my eyes
I just couldn,t believe..
I broke into a run ...
I was injured..but No;
All the pains of the world I felt..
Everywhere..blood..white-red doves.
Crushed flowers..
Destruction..and vicious devilish faces
With guns bayonets
At the grave stone I wrote
They were all crucified
They lived and died with one hope
Shining in the misery of their lives,
Namely,To return home.
But I,m still there ..
With everlasting fire raging in my heart
To return my father,s stolen memories..
Stolen house stolen land !

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Posted by Mousa sabbagh on June 23, 2013 #151577

This is what i heard from my father on may 25 /1948