The recently freed prisoner is asleep on his first night at home. He wakes up on his first shining morning to his mother’s whisper in the kitchen..

His rejoicing mother warns everyone to walk quietly in the house so as not to rouse her son from his first dream in his white room.

The liberated son is still lying on his bed, wondering, “Where am I?, What is this strange place?”. He wants to leave his room, but he is very afraid of the door; doors terrorize his memory.

He puts his hand on the doorknob, hesitates as he opens the door, goes back to bed confused, thinking ” What are the jailers whispering about outside my cell?” His mother steps slowly into his room, amazed why her son hasn’t risen yet by this late hour of the day.

The house is still and happy. The family is waiting to have the first meal with her dreamer warrior.

I got email from an American woman who lives in California, which said “please Kawther, know that there are many Jewish people in the U.S who feel this way. Salam, Noelle.”. She meant the gloomy sadness in the heart and memory of each Palestinian since the Nakba, and the tragedies since. The woman attached a link to an article entitled “Mourning the Jewish New Year,” written by Marc H. Ellis who is a university professor of Jewish Studies.

The writer said: I am a Jew. And I say: I am a Palestinian. Here’s what I want to say:

I don’t want you to mourn here, not even a funeral to carry my dark memories on my shoulders and walk with a buried head in the mud. We all have heard enough political speeches, we have read many articles about the Nakba, we drank lying promises, we are fed up with the news and commentaries. We all the victim of political greediness, we all have suffered from the repression and displacement. We – the Palestinians- have died a thousand times to be born again.

Yes, I don’t want to mourn, and I don’t want to rend my garments due to the absurdities of history, and due to this farce, which is not over yet.

Mourning will not kill the grief, and rending the garments will not weave us a new dress for the happiness. Maybe little innocent dreams will defeat the bloody memories. Am I stupid?.

Once, a Swedish friend who lives in America, wrote something to me after he got back from a visit to Tel Aviv: ” One day, you will see, you will come over to say hello to me, share an afuch at Cafe Asztor, where I will be enjoying the hot summer stickiness with my fellow Tal Avivi old boys gang, and I will come say hello to you in Gaza, gobble some bakhlava and feed the jellyfish, strolling along the beach. Deal?” After I read his words I felt mixed feelings, sadness and gladness, optimism and pessimism; but mostly delight. Will the day ever come to visit Tel Aviv?. In 21 years I haven’t seen a Palestinian city other than Gaza, never tread on Tel Aviv, Haifa, Jaffa, Acre, Beer-Sheva … I haven’t even seen the capital, Jerusalem. Isn’t that ironic!

My friend can visit Tel Aviv, whatever time he wants, and can visit Jerusalemas well, while I spend most of my life in the one Palestinian city, Gaza!. Would I beg you, Israel?!: Allow me to visit the village where you killed my family there in 1948?, the village where you destroyed our homes and our hearts, which was then turned into a nature reserve. Is it impossible to visit it?

If a war will bring me back to my homeland, will make my dreams true, what is the good in this if you will lose your loved ones?. Would I return to my home without my family? When will that time come that we can take back freedom without needing a war? Rather, when will the world stop wars? .

These days, Jews celebrate their new year. Celebrate, please, dance over our dead bodies every new year, because every year the dead bodies of innocent people will bloom peace, and love. Whether you like it or not.

Now I must to thank that America woman, who made my day, and made me feel good about the hope of the world’s solidarity with the Palestinians’ grief. Thank you, dear Noelle.