PALESTINE, AN INNER VISION – Angelina Llongueras


Art is not a mirror held up to reality,

but a hammer with which to shape it

 –Valdimir Maiakovsky.



You ache in the marrow of my bone,

You ache in the horrifying silence,

That does not allow the cries

of so many terrified,

burned, pulled to pieces

Infants be heard.


You ache in the silence

and the absolute impunity

with which so many of your children

and grand children

have been sentenced

to entire lives of hatred and violence,

to lives without innocence,

or play, or love, or joy,

with blocked feelings

and an erased smile

for ever…


The sound of the bombs

raining on you

brings to mind a terror

I thought I had forgotten,

when, as a child,

I would feel the scratch

of a nocturnal shoot-out,

a quick and hidden one,

on some isolated site,

that maybe woke me up,

and  I would feel inside the  young

chased dragged silenced bodies falling

by a bullet in the nuke

shot by anonymous executioners

disguised as ordinary citizens.

Silence, always silence, falling..


Those fallen bodies

Would soon become

That which the Nazis called

“night and fog”

when they exported them

to their concentration camps…


just like your youngsters and children now,



You are treated like

a working class woman,

who has never been respected,

even though she may have studied,


for those at the top know who’s who,

whatever next!

Or do you think the poor have rights

no matter how often they wash their face?


Believe me, Palestine,

I know your story,

I have lived it from the inside:


They take for granted

you’re uneducated and coarse,


and dangerous,

a carrier of disease and heresy,

who deserves to be burnt,

who has been born to be a servant,

to be sweet-talk betrayed and fucked,

and shut up! which is your duty,

or else

you’ll get to know the belt

of the Lord and Master!


And in case the ever present

“historical reasons” were not enough,

you carry the load of the three religions

whose mission,

since time immemorial,

is to dry you out, to leave you barren,


without any joy of living,

burst open…


you will find happiness

in the next life,


now, the duty of the poor is to shut up,

so say the Saint Father, the Rabbi, and the Imam.

By the way, do you really have a soul?

Or you’re just some little beast

That can be killed without blame or fear?

Or do you think a servant

Cannot have it all taken away?


If this world had a conscience,

every government would call away

their diplomats and citizens

from the invading country,

and none of them would allow

the “final solution”

which wants to extinguish

the ongoing rebellion

of, as the media call her…


this belligerent whore,

who dares to challenge,

from her brutalization,

from her ugly misery,

and her disgusting suffering.

  • that are best left unseen,

they are so unpleasant! –

the “beautiful” “clean” “orderly”

“pure” “sterilized” world of the wealthy,

the world of “civilization” that

subdues her by “natural law”,

God willing!

She should be grateful in fact

for the charities received

from well-meaning “benefactors”,

who, when able, have tossed her

some loaf of bread or other..

-although nowadays

you can’t be so explicit

about this as yesterday…

A pity!-



I know you have courage,

plenty of it!,

because you carry in your heart

so many humiliations,

and so much resistance

to so many crimes

that you have filled yourself with patience,

and you can take

whatever it takes,

now and in the future..

I have no doubts,



You see them coming,

you know who they are,

and you have chosen not to shut up,

because martyrdom is, doubtlessly,

better than extinction.


And I cry in admiration,

And I want to hug you,

like no one has ever hugged you,.

In any of your many lives,

so they won’t be able to ignore or blame you

with their collective muteness

like a humiliated,

brutalized, raped land

that has been so hurt

Is ignored.



I want to heal you,

and I want everyone to heal you,

the whole world,

awake and together,

must undertake the pending task

to stop the foul-smelling

genocidal monster,

for, only the human heart

who embraces you without fear,

or prejudice,

who drowns in your mud,

who gives you tears and blood,

who offers you his life,

-not metaphorically-

but his everyday life

can undo so much pain.


And no flower will be born

until everyone hugs you

and begs your forgiveness

and takes you away from oblivion

and death

with a kiss.





I entrust you

to the fountain

of life

and love

with all my longing.



© 2012 Angelina Llongueras.  First published by RaedLeafPoetry-India 2013.

Angelina Llongueras

Angelina Llongueras is an actress, poet, playwright, stage director, professor and researcher born in Barcelona and relocated to Chicago. She is a member of the San Francisco Revolutionary Poets Brigade.

Fahredin Shehu- Love


The past days of my virgin foremost-ness
I summon with the plea to once again feel
the flavor of un-ripen fruits and zephyr
that waves the leafs of un-ripen wheat
and the winter idyll of Japan by Werner Bischoff
in the winter idyll of the Balkans
which has deeply imprinted in my grey part
of cerebral tissue

On a Rakim’s table
imprinted in my heart
words of golden letters have been written
by unnamed archangel
while others bewilder
I read the first, the middle and the last


Fahredin Shehu

Fahredin Shehu is an author of several published books of poetry and included in many international magazines. Among them:  Struga Anthology-Macedonia, Lodeve Anthology-France, Nazareth Anthology-Israel, Blue Max Review-Dublin Ireland, Coldnoon Travel Poetics- New Delhi India, World Healing Anthology- USA, Alquimia de la Tierra- Huelva University- Spain etc