I will NOT surrender to you O’ Devil


Satisfied, as usual,

To sit clumsily with my funny socks

On the yellow patterned sofa.

Like a coward soldier

Who retells hysterically the story

Of the victory

He didn’t share in.

Like a pathetic gambler

Who doesn’t have anti-jinx pills

For his stripy luck

That is sometimes black

And sometimes white.


Waited, as usual,

With shiver and concealed joy

The ending of the fireworks attack

With shudder and bundle of sighs

The ending and the beginning

Of the Hidden Counter Time.


A New Foggy Day,

Will maliciously intend to visit me.

Hello, No…

You are not welcomed.

Don’t visit me.

I will close my door tightly.

I want to see no guests.

You are not allowed to seep into my soul.

You are not allowed to destroy what’s left of me.

You are not allowed to knock me down.

You are not allowed to use your forked deformed tongue.

You are not allowed to create your poisonous words.

I will NOT surrender to you O’ Devil.

Don’t Go Back To Sleep

Image result for window

A decent cool breeze, which stands in the face of the pathetic hot and dry climate, silently penetrates the curtains in my room. I’ve just finished Fajir Prayer and was reading some verses from Quran. Then comes the noisy dog. I stepped toward the window, looking underneath to beg neighbor’s frantic dog: PLEASE STOP STOP STOP BARKING!

I felt the breeze. A cool breeze that refreshes my fatigued soul. One heavenly breeze was the cure for the soul that was exhausted the previous year. At that moment, I remembered Rumi’s words:

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.

I don’t want to describe my own feelings. Since these feelings are very special to every individual. I have just realized that I always shout O’Allah, O’ My Lord, O’ My Creator.

But this month, I didn’t…

I was wondering why I didn’t complain to you, O’ Allah.

Why I didn’t ask you for what I really want, O’ Allah.

And why I was telling people around me: Oh folks I am unable to elevate my spiritual level anymore.

What I Frankly Realized That My Eyes Do Not Store Tears


Yeah Ramadan this year is different…

I was really tired the month before Ramadan. My soul has declared the state of emergency since my spiritual reservoir was dramatically draining. I said to myself…Okay Lina, WAIT… WAIT … All your problems… All your problems will be fixed during Ramadan.

Waiting for Ramadan month was my mania. Since January, I was calculating the day… I mean the first day for fasting. How many days are left?! Oh my dear month come quickly!

All of us every year encountered a serial of problems that shot us forming hollow gaps in our hearts.

What we gain are heavy hearts full of sadness, concerns, and worries.

All of us every year wore the same shaggy souls, second-hand souls worn by the Old You.

And what we gain are rough, harsh and coarse souls.

Without a cure for the soul and for the heart, we will definitely be distorted people.

Ramadan was the purification month for the corruption that pervades both my entire heart and soul. Ramadan was my definition of tranquility and tolerance. It was… Ramadan was… 

BUT… What happened to me?!

Actually, I don’t know…

When people around me said there’s no excuse for you to say: you are tired. OH, people… I am not trying even to say I am tired because of fasting. I feel that I am just like the person who fast and gets nothing from the fast but hunger. A person who prays at night but gets nothing from the prayer but sleeplessness.

My final exams were in the first four days of Ramadan. I was fasting during those days. I was reminding myself that I will gain calmness after finishing my exams although the mood of exams was dominant. This daily encouragement was like a notification message that pops up in front of my eyes: After your exams, you will revive.

After my final exams….

No bright or rosy news.

I don’t feel the previous feelings of fasting, praying and reading Quran. What’s happening to me?! I go to the masjid for Taraweeh(Night Prayer) but I will be such a sleepy person who stands to pray then will fall on the floor at any time. Luckily, the two women beside me are like prison guards who won’t let me even bow.

Am I weak? What happened to me?

Last year; The previous Ramadan. With the help of Allah, I was so strong person. I was taking -at summer semester- two most complex courses at my major. After Suhour, I pray Fajir then begin studying, go to the university at 8:00 am and return back to home at 2:00 pm. Of course so tired however so ambitious.

One lonely hour to sleep was my great drug. Again, studying and waiting for Maghrib to eat Futoor. I was extremely happy those days. Going to Taraweeh then return back and sleep at 11:30 pm. Wake up to Suhoor at 3:00 am… whooh…. Sleeping nearly four hours every day during this whole month. Yeah, my colleagues and my friends said that I am crazy yet I was happy doing all that study-stuff during Ramadan.

This year I didn’t take summer semester in order to spend this month for strengthening my relationship with my creator. What I frankly realized that my eyes don’t store tears…

As long as you use a knife, there is a symphony composed…

As long as you use a knife, there is a symphony composed…

As long as you use a knife, hold it tightly

You are now the fighter.

Fighting for your freedom,

Fighting for your honor,

Fighting for your virtue.

As long as you use a knife, hold it tightly

You are now the resistant.

Resisting the common deadly silence

Resisting the mad snakes’ cuffs

Resisting the obnoxious humiliation.

As long as you use a knife, hold it tightly

You are now the free man.

Free from the momentary fear

Free from the fake panic

Free from the deceptive horror.

As long as you use a knife, hold it tightly

You are now the greatest composer

Of new Palestinians’ anthems.

Bab Al-Amoud will always remain the spectacular gate for Al-Aqsa Mosque

untitledThe large wall, where the gate of Bab Al-Amoud merged its shoulders within it, combined of two large towers. Like ‘Mashrabiyat’ in Khan Al-Khalili, small stone orients were projected from the towers and supported by short thick beautiful braids. On the top of the large wall, couples of Olympic flames are kindled by the sun at daytime. At night the flames solidified and appeared as Ottomans soldiers’ wearing old army hats protecting the inside city from any sudden attack. Thick chains with chunky pendants necklace have been placed kindly on the neck of the gate. Sprinkled magnificent jewels were sewed with the gown of the wall. Bab Al-Amoud will always remain the spectacular gate for Al-Aqsa Mosque.untitled

Bab Al-Amoud

If I were a Gazan…

My imaginations after the war, if I were a Gazan…

If I were a Gazan…

If I were a Gazan, I would first wipe the black ashes away off my face, clean my glasses and bend down to flick the dust off my clothes.

If I were a Gazan, I would see some parents telling me: Look at this photo… Look at this amazing child… He’s now in heaven, his father would add.

If I were a Gazan, I would wish that I didn’t attend the summer course and be away from my family.

If I were a Gazan, I would be grateful… extremely grateful to Allah that my family is still alive.

If I were a Gazan, I wouldn’t know if I were the only survival of my whole family.

If I were a Gazan, I wouldn’t be sure whether my friends surname would be erased from the files in the ministry of interior or not.

If I were a Gazan, I would remember how very panic I was in the apartment corridor due to the voices of the rockets. The voices were so near… so close. My little cousins were sitting beside me telling me not to be afraid. I kept my eye on them, they were smiling. I would remember when I was breathing heavily, trying to open my mouth. I would want to say something to them… want to cry, to shout. They were fearless. The building was shelled. I was the only survival there. I didn’t see those little children again.

If I were a Gazan, I would grieve not because of my ruined home, not because of my charming garden, not because of losing my beloved ones, not because of my bed which is now divided into two parts, not because of my broken mirror, not because of my burnt clothes, not because of that wired shape furniture that had been smashed… but because of losing the most valuable books… O my humble library…

If I were a Gazan, I would find the geology book… the only survival book… I would open it… my eyes would read: “This zone was considered dead land however after the volcano explosion this earth back to life again”. At that time I would be very optimistic. I would wish that Gaza would back again to life quickly.

If I were a Gazan, I would cry loudly somewhere. I would find a place where no one can hear or see me crying…but… there’s not even a single tree I could sit under it… I would eventually gave up and think about crying silently.

If I were a Gazan, I would compose the symphony of being alive.

If I were a Gazan, I wouldn’t wear like mourning woman… I’m homeless. My clothes which I was wearing now are treasure, at least for me.

If I were a Gazan, I would smile, for nothing… I mean I would like to try practice smiling.

If I were a Gazan, I might be without my left leg, without the right one… or without the both.

If I were a Gazan, I might be without my right hand, without the left one… or without the both.

If I were a Gazan, I might be blind.

If I were a Gazan, I might be deaf.

If I were a Gazan, I would know what patience means.

If I were a Gazan, I would know what tolerance means.

If I were a Gazan, I would know what belief means.


BOYCOTT your ENEMY… BOYCOTT Israeli Products

boycott your enemy

BOYCOTT Israeli Products

Boycott for the sake of our children and infants who die every second

Boycott for the sake of these little pale orphans who are calling for their parents. The orphans who are crying while sleeping on the floor of their schools

Boycott for the sake of the fathers who lost all their families, their wives, their sons and their daughters. The men who lost their grandsons their granddaughters

Boycott for the sake of not being a part in this bloody genocide.

Boycott for the sake of sending smiles to Gaza instead of guns, bombs, rockets and missiles

Boycott for the sake of the pregnant women who were shelled while they were sleeping quietly

Boycott for the sake of the burnt people, people whom we can’t recognize their faces

Boycott for the sake of the Palestinians blood which flow in the roads

Boycott for the sake of the destruction foodstuff factories at Gaza

Boycott for the sake of the houses and large buildings which become ashes and dust

Boycott for the sake of the Humanity


All thanks to the countries that are boycotting Israeli products

All thanks to the individuals who are boycotting Israeli products

All thanks to the activists who are boycotting Israeli products

Is “PEACE” a vulgar word?!


All humanity call for “PEACE

In demonstrations you see people cry for “PEACE

Human Rights for “PEACE

We ALL know Nobel “PEACE” prize,

It’s given to people who establish wars

It’s given to people who commit massacres, race cleansing and genocides

It’s given to people who have murder genetics inside their cells

It’s given to people who did nothing to the humanity but destruction and grieve

It’s given to people who kill civilians with cold blood

It’s given to people who use forbidden weapons

It’s given to people who give grants and gifts to the one who kills children

It’s given to people who support all the above.

What does “PEACE” means?!

PEACE is an Undefined Word

PEACE is meaningless

PEACE is useless

PEACE is Fake

PEACE is Unreal

PEACE is a Lie



Cinderella Shoe!!!


Where’s Cinderella, that owns this shoe?!

Where’s Cinderella, the one that her little feet can fit in this shoe?!

Is she still keeping the other shoe?!

Should we visit every home in Gaza Kingdom to know this little princess?!

Should we visit every home in Gaza Kingdom to let every girl try to wear this shoe?!

Should we visit every hospital in Gaza Kingdom to understand why her shoe is stained with blood?!

But we don’t see houses

Or buildings 

Everything we see is a mess

Everything we see is piles over piles of stones

Everything we see is deep holes in earth

Everything we see is a huge amount of dust 

Everything we see is bombs, missiles and rockets 

Everything we see is black

Everything we see is grey

Everything we see is dead princesses

Everything we see is dead Cinderella little girls

Maybe the hospital she was in, DESTROYED, during the shelling

Is this little Cinderella under a treatment or under an operation?

Is that little beauty still ALIVE???!!!

Silence Aloud


Silence Aloud


Yesterday I looked

Into the empty skull of a

Palestinian boy.

Face intact, back of head

blown away, smashed, empty skull, no brains.

And Father, weeping, imploring

his son to come alive

And play with his favourite toy.

I saw a photo of a young girl

Her face pock marked with shrapnel wounds

A tear escaping her eye

As she died.

We don’t see these images in the West because

we are coddled and swaddled from

images that might upset our delicate/sensitive/fragile/exquisite

blindfolded selves.

Tears for the Palestinian people

Washing away the silence of genocide

by Israel.

Israel: cossetted and armed

by the American military-industrial complex

because waging war on Palestinian people

is profitable.

Israel – supported in its murderous actions

by Murdoch’s empire/CNN/NBC/ABC/BBC/Establishment media.

So I heed a call by a Palestinian:

Why the silence on Palestinian deaths?

5 dead Israelis;

so far 333 dead Palestinians:


View original post 386 more words

Is Shayma singing for her doll “Yalla Tnam”?

Four-year-old Palestinian girl Shayma Al-Masri, who hospital officials said was wounded in an Israeli air strike that killed her mother and two of her siblings. Shayma lies on a bed next to her doll, putting her hand tenderly on her doll.

Four-year-old Palestinian girl Shayma Al-Masri, who hospital officials said was wounded in an Israeli air strike that killed her mother and two of her siblings

Oh Lord ! Help Rima Sleep
Oh Lord ! Help Rima Sleep, May she become sleepy
May she grow loving to pray and to fast
Oh God Make her healthier each day
May she go to sleep and I will cook a delicious pigeon
Go pigeon bird, don’t believe what I am saying, I just say it so that Rima will sleep
Rima, Rima, beautiful rose of the prairies, you have shining blond hair
The one who loves you shall kiss, and the one who hates you will go away
Oh merchants of grapes and of jujube, tell my mother and my father
the gypsies have kidnapped me from below the tent of “Majdaliyyeh”
I will take you on a little trip, to place where there are prunes under the apricot tree
and each time the wind blows, I will pick an apricot for Rima
Hey Lina, lend us you kettle and you bowl
So that we wash the clothes of Rima, and hang them up on the jasmine tree

What’s the dream of every Palestinian Child?!!

A ten-year-old Palestinian boy Khaled Shalat, paints at a hospitalA ten-year-old Palestinian boy Khaled Shalat, paints at a hospital bed, in Deir al-Balah in Central Gaza Strip bed, in Deir al-Balah in Central Gaza Strip. Khaled entered the hospital to get treated following an Israeli air strike on his family’s house that killed his father Raed Shalat, 37, and wounded four others from his family including his mother.

Khaled drew a land. Khaled didn’t draw a house.Khaled drew three blue clouds, small yellow sun and six birds in the white sky.

Three tall flowers; Yellow flower, red flower and blue flower. Green tree, containing yellow fruit maybe its lemon tree.

A ten-year-old Palestinian boy Khaled Shalat, paints at a hospital bed, in Deir al-Balah in Central Gaza Strip

We are waiting for another and another missiles from resistance in Gaza


You may think that Palestinians’ sanity is doubtful and you may think, also, that we have kind of idiocy or just brainless. No matters, if we have mental problems or other problems which are still unknown for scientists, try to bear our reactions toward missiles.

Living about 20 km away from Jerusalem makes us unable to hear the huge sound of sirens. If we were given the chance to hear that sound we would make huge party and give candies. Our reaction is that we are waiting for another and another and another and another and another missiles from resistance in Gaza to take revenge from these criminals’ Zionists who are destroying and killing our families in Gaza.

Palestinians’ Impression towards that missiles from Gaza to Jerusalem

(The Impression after hearing the voice of missiles explosion in Jerusalem)

Hearing that voice resuscitates our souls that feels with depression

Hearing that voice frees us from all fears that we are sinking in

Hearing that voice gives us a lot of enthusiasm doses

Hearing that voice makes us shout loudly: “Allahu Akbar”

Hearing that voice makes us say: “you are surely helpless Zionists”

Hearing that voice informs us that Gaza contains heroes, not TV shows ones but REAL MEN

Hearing that voice makes us feel with dignity

Hearing that voice makes us believe deeply that Allah won’t leave His believers’ servants alone

Hearing that voice gives us hope that Allah will accomplish His promise

Hearing that voice indicates that Palestine will be free from bloody zionists criminals

Hearing that voice charges us with power, the power to tear our old dress

The dress of humiliation

The dress of shame

The dress of treason

The dress of deception

The dress of disloyalty

The dress of hatred

The dress of scrimmage

That voice still rings in our ears

Telling us take a NEW STEP…

The force-feeding of Palestinian prisoners!!!

The force-feeding of Palestinian prisoners!!!
A draft bill that is making its way through the Israeli parliament and would authorize the force-feeding of Palestinian prisoners on hunger strike has pitted the country’s medical community, which opposes the practice, against the government of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

After the country’s main doctors’ association said the practice amounts to torture, Netanyahu asked that the legislation, which has been under several rounds of debate, be fast tracked, according to the Israeli newspaper Haaretz.

In reaction to Netanyahu’s desire to find doctors that would consent to force-feeding hunger-striking prisoners, who have been on strike for some 6 weeks, the Israel Medical Association (IMA) urged physicians not to cooperate with the government’s plans.

“It goes against the DNA of the doctors to force treatment on a patient,” spokeswoman Ziva Miral said on Tuesday. “Force-feeding is torture, and we can’t have doctors participating in torture.

Palestinians held in Israeli jails began the latest hunger strike on April 24, when about 100 prisoners began refusing meals in protest of Israel’s use of administrative detention — a practice in which Palestinians are indefinitely detained without charges or trial. Since then, hundreds of other prisoners have joined the protest, while thousands have held one-day strikes in solidarity with the original 100, Maan News, a Palestinian news outlet, reported.

Yoel Hadar, a legal adviser with the Public Security Ministry, which initiated the pending legislation, said the force-feeding would be used if an Israeli judge felt a Palestinian prisoner’s life was in danger through hunger striking.

“We want the judge to take into consideration what will happen to the country if something happens,” Hadar said, referring to the unrest that could accompany the death of a person who refuses meals.

But a number of Israeli medical groups in addition to the IMA have criticized the legislation.

Israel’s umbrella organization for national medical associations, the World Medical Association (WMA), also opposes the practice. In 2006, it said that “forcible feeding is never ethically acceptable.”

Israel’s National Council of Bioethics also said it opposes the bill.

Another group, Physicians for Human Rights-Israel reportedly called the WMA last month, asking that it help stop the legislation. The group reiterated such ethical concerns, saying “the true motivation … is to the break the spirit and protests of the hunger strikers.”

Currently, some 5,000 Palestinians are imprisoned by Israel, including 191 in administrative detention.

Protests erupted on Wednesday across the occupied Palestinian territories in solidarity with hunger-striking prisoners. Palestinian youth clashed with Israeli soldiers near Ofer, an Israeli prison near the West Bank city of Ramallah where two Palestinian teenagers were shot and killed last month. Solidarity rallies were also held in Gaza in which children played the roles of Israeli soldiers and Palestinian prisoners.

“It’s a very grave and dangerous situation. I think the Palestinian people are becoming very anxious and angry over the prisoners,” Mustafa Bargouthi, secretary-general of the Palestine National Initiative, said. “Force-feeding is a violation of human rights and is unacceptable under any standards — Israel can solve this problem easily by releasing the prisoners arrested without charges.”

Palestinian prisoners have died after being force-fed in Israeli prisons, according to Barghouthi. “They aspirated, contracted lung infections and other very serious complications,” he added.

Sivan Weizman, spokeswoman for the Israeli Prison Authority, said she recalled one or two cases of force-feeding prisoners in the 1980s. Qadoura Fares, head of the Palestine Prisoners’ Club — a prisoner rights group — confirmed the deaths, but said three prisoners had died from complications.

Two years ago, about 2,000 administrative detainees and other prisoners launched a mass hunger strike aimed at ending the practice of force-feeding. One of those on the previous strike, Samer Issawi, came to prominence after he refused food for about eight months in protest of his administrative detention. It was reported at the time that he might have been force-fed through an intravenous tube; it is unclear how he would have survived the long hunger strike otherwise. In the end, Israel agreed to release Issawi because his life was in imminent danger.

Origami Folding Techniques ease the Matter of Understanding the Folding in your Life.

origami folding

You’re still at the step number 46. Turning over the pages of the practice book, you see another three pages should be finished. Oh God why did I get into this task?! There are another 54 steps that shall be accomplished to finish one-hundred steps. Actually, that’s my regular routine when I decide to make Origami.

Origami, which I won’t mention anything about its amazing history expect that it’s a Japanese paper folding, is kind of creating objects using one or more square papers, folding the paper continuously and differently either to make a simple flower or to make a real-like insect.

Therefore almost all the steps require folding the paper you have. Some techniques of folding are easy and others are complex and need a lot of mental effort and for sure sufficient time.

Don’t you think that life folds you as you fold Origami! Every fold, as in Origami, makes the object looks more charming. The more steps the object needs the more fabulous it appears. Every complex fold makes the object looks impressive. The lines of folding and pleating firmly dwell on the paper. You can’t remove any folded-line unless you use magic wand.

Like Origami…every fold, every handicap, every obstacle, every hardship and every problem in life strengths you from inside. The more barriers you face in life the more readiness you find in the future. Every difficultly prepares you for something bigger, for uplifts and for advancements. Your experience during that time would be stored in your brain so that will rebuild your affectivity.

Life consists of hardship. The hardship isn’t a big deal but it’s a kind of a preparation course to let you get into a new level. Just like a game contains levels. Each level schools you to be ready for the following one. Origami folding techniques ease the matter of understanding that the folding in your life.

Maybe I dislike School, but I’ll never forget “Meshoooo”…


“Meshoooo” is our beloved skeleton. I’ll never forget when we went to the lab (which was for Biology, Chemistry and Physics), we were just fifteen girls at Tawjehee class (High School) sitting at the tiny chairs with frozen hands and pale faces. It was raining outside, there wasn’t heating in that small room. Chemistry teacher started to explain in addition he did some experiments, while we were complaining and writing quickly in our textbooks.

Two hours for chemistry, the minutes turned to be like hours. The first hour had finished but very slowly, then…

The head teacher needed the Chemistry teacher so he went out, leaving us alone. We looked at each other happily, no class for today…

Then we gathered and decorated our skeleton with jewelry and with a pencil, he had been worn an apron. He looked like a lady, a sparkling lady, we danced with him and took some pictures; we were like real idiots…

By the way, Meshooo’s hand was broken while we were taking some pictures with him at a Biology class at summer….

Beltaji’s letter to his daughter Asma who was murdered at Rabea` Al-Adaweyah Square.


My beloved daughter and dignified teacher Asma Al-Beltaji; I do not say goodbye to you; I say tomorrow we shall meet again. You have lived with your head held high, rebellious against tyranny and shackles and loving freedom. You have lived as a silent seeker of new horizons to rebuild this nation to assume its place among civilizations. You never occupied yourself with what preoccupies those of your age. Even though traditional studies failed to fulfil your aspirations and interest; you have always been the first in your class. I have not had enough of your precious company in this short life, especially that my time did not allow me to enjoy your companionship. The last time we sat together at Raba` Al-Adawya square you asked me “even when you are with us you are busy” and I told you “it seems that this life will not be enough to enjoy each other’s company so I pray to God that we enjoy our companionship in Paradise.” Two nights before you were murdered I saw you in my dream in a white wedding dress and you were an icon of beauty. When you lay next to me I asked you “Is it your wedding night?” You answered, “It is in the noon not the evening”. When they told me you were murdered on Wednesday afternoon I understood what you meant and I knew God had accepted your soul as a martyr. You strengthened my belief that we are on the truth and our enemy is on falsehood. It caused me severe pain not to be at your last farewell and see you for the last time; not to kiss your forehead; and not be honoured to lead your funeral prayer. I swear to God, my darling I was not afraid for my life or from an unjust prison, but I wanted to carry the message you scarified your soul for; to complete the revolution, to win and achieve its objectives. Your soul has been elevated with your head held high resisting the tyrants. The treacherous bullets have hit you in the chest. What spectacularly determined and pure soul. I am confident that you were honest to God and He has chosen you among us to honour you with sacrifice. Finally, my beloved daughter and dignified teacher: I do not say goodbye, but I say farewell. We shall meet soon with our beloved Prophet and his companions in Heaven where our wish to enjoy each other’s company and our loved ones’ company will come true.