The Village Where Ayman Lived

Ayman’s neighbors often exclaimed
That by no one else on Earth
Was the village
Where Ayman lived
Ever seen.

But Ayman knew better…

As he once swayed in her arms,
His head pressed against
Her bosom of embroidered fabric,
Ayman’s wise, sweet grandmother
Had told him

That Allah always watched the village.

She told him never to seek the aid of anyone
Except Allah…

And Ayman obeyed…

One day Ayman passed an elderly man
Who sat on the dusty curb
Weeping hysterically,
Raising his hands to the sky

Questioning:

“Why?! Why?!
Why, ya Allah, Why?!”

Ayman kneeled to the ground,
The rocky earth piercing into the
Thin skin of his ankles;

He slowly brought down the man’s hands
Gusted by the man’s sorrow as he pressed
Against his sweaty palms—
The despair of years of hard work,
Stolen land,

And today…

The loss of his last son,
Shot to the ground
Without mercy.

Ayman squeezed the man’s hands
And calmly said:

“La’ ya ‘ammy!”

He reminded the man,
Never question the will of Allah…

Tonight…

The enemy decides to give Ayman’s village

A surprise…

2 AM—

Ayman awakens to the sounds of bullets and missiles.
Ignoring his grandmother’s cries to seek refuge,
Ayman runs out to the street
As crowded as day.

Deafened to the high-pitched voices
Of screaming women
And blinded to the bloodshed of the crossfire,
That even splashes across his own body,

Ayman runs for his childhood friends
Who he spots
Forming a human shield
In front of a line of soldiers.

Without even the defense of stones in their hands,
Ayman and his friends
Punch their right fists into the brightly, starred sky

And shout:

Allahu Akbar!

Allahu Akbar!…


These are the words that are stronger than
Any bullets;
Any missiles;

Allahu Akbar!

These are the words
That will free Ayman
And his homeland


(Poem by Suehaila Nabulsi entitled The Village Where Ayman Lived)