Submitted by : Anna Bint Islam on Palestine

Wickedness in Disguise

My mamma used to say it was pixie dust
Those small twinkling stars in the sky
I was too young to understand
They used to fly in, then burst
Showering the whole landscape

I didn’t know that somewhere close by
Someone flew away, up to the Heavens
I used to look up and smile
Always wanting to go up with those white streamers
To take a short flight up high

Maybe my mamma wanted the same
That’s what I thought then
When I took hold of her hand with my grubby fingers
Wondering why no smile creased her lips
At the sight of the sparkling dust and sound

She told me tales of a father I’d never known
How he had flown with the pixie dust
I would ask when would he return
She’d begin to smile without an answer
And I used to marvel, why were her eyes glistening with tears

My mamma dreamt of soaring with the birds
She called them ‘symbols of freedom’
I wanted to know why her heart desired to be free
Our room was big; I could go where I wanted
There weren’t any prison bars

One day, I couldn’t find my mamma
At night, while I slept, she came to me
I took hold of her hand, but it disappeared
She whispered to me with soft words
“My love, I am free”

I watched my mamma grow faint
And I waited for the pixie dust
I was too young to understand
Why my mamma was gone forever
I grew to be an orphan child

I witnessed how those around me went away
And I began to ask, when would I fly?
My neighbour yelled at me and said I was crazy
I cried myself to sleep
I saw my mamma come with my father

I looked into their eyes
I saw my mamma smile without the tears
I knew then, why she wanted to be free
I begged and wept for her to return
But only God heard me cry

He couldn’t bring her back
She had gone, like my father, with a poof
I wish now she didn’t have to lie
And could have cried with her head in my small lap
Rather than conceal it with a smile and teary eyes

My mamma told me it was pixie dust
But then I was too young to understand
I know now that it was a phosphorus bomb
Meant not to fly, but to kill
My mamma hid me from its wickedness

I began to wonder if she had flown in pain
I prayed that God would let her visit me
And then she came, her arms held out
She embraced me and asked if I was all right
I smiled and she probably knew, why I had tears in my eyes