This Piece Features a Content Warning
Discussions of genocide present.
Who am I?
Al-Zaitoon from the forgotten land.
1948, at three, on foot from Haifa to Sidon to Amman.
Until his last breath, he remembered how generations fled looking for a peaceful land.
With keys in his hands, Al Nakba misunderstand:
homes wait… you will not be unoccupied.
This is not genocide
He thought that he would be back
to melt in his land.
The truth is,
it was genocide;
it was ethnic cleansing
Who am I?
Here, I am the other.
Left behind fresh thyme, Sumac, Shaqaeq al nomaan, and Hamda’s aromatic fenjan.
It is a new heartland.
Who am I?
2004, to the beaver land.
An unseeded zaitoon in the maple land.
Echo their names five thousand miles far from my homeland.
Lost my voice between the empty walls.
Be quiet, no one can come beforehand.
18 long years and I don’t want to forget my motherland.
Who am I?
2018, why do you exist? I don’t understand.
With his hand on my head,
he lost his breath.
I am another
with no place, no time, no land.
Who am I?
Wait–
You still can.
For the unseeded, you thrive.
Say the unsaid for those who can’t.
Don’t leave.
Wait– you still can.
Make him proud,
make her proud.
Use your voice.
Don’t hide.
Who am I?
I am not alone.
Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee, and the Cree I understand.
The “other” on their land.
My voice, my honor, and my homeland were taken beforehand.
Wait–you still can.
Make him proud,
make her proud.
Use your voice.
Don’t hide.
Dima Zaid-Kilani is a Carleton University PhD student in Applied Linguistics & Discourse studies.
They also work as an ESL professor and a TESOL Methodology trainer.
