Raja Mattar


Beirut - Lebanon


Tuesday, 16 April 2002

Goodbye My Child The Terrorist!
A Father's Lament

Goodbye my child!

Your five years of life were cut short by those strangers from foreign lands, who came holding the Bible in one hand and a gun in the other, determined to steal your land and mine, to cut the olive tree that was there on the land before they were born, to cut the orange tree whose fruits I was hoping you would pick when you grow up, to demolish the house that I built to give you shelter.

Goodbye my child!

Forgive me if I am the only one to kiss you goodbye. Your mother is under the rubble of our home. Your brothers were taken away in the middle of the night. I donít know where. I donít know who of them is still alive. I wish I could place along your limp body some of the toys you played with, but they are also in the in rubble along with your motherís bones. I hope when you meet her, wherever you are, she would have some with her. She loved you so much.

Goodbye, my child!

I may be joining you soon, my child, because I am not leaving this land. I may be joining you, because alone I am defending this land. Alone in a world which doesn't want to see or hear! Alone because on the other side of the border my kin are in a comatose state. Alone, because a few bandits have taken over the world.

I am doing my best, my child, but I feel all alone! 



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