Post by dk on Nov 19, 2006 20:06:56 GMT -5
Coconut Girl and the Mirror
by Lubna Warawra
Once upon a time coconut girl ran into a child holding a rock,
The child's eyes turned into a big mirror
Coconut girl saw the mirror for the first time in her life.
A moment of self-discovery
She didn’t like what she saw
She was scared
she smashed the mirror
100,000 pieces the mirror scattered
Each one has the same picture: Coconut girl
A l00, 000 coconut girls
The child died on the cross
Went to heaven
A whole generation passed
The 100,000 mirrors grew up mirror trees
Each with 100,000 more mirrors with brown girls on them
Mirrors speak; I am your identity, I am your grandmother El hajjeh, back in the old country
Look into my eyes; I’m your mirror
Erase me from your diary; you can’t erase me from your genes.
Brown on brown
She tore down grandmother's picture but grandmother still existed
The more she avoided looking into the child's brown eyes the more she was dissolving
Living in denial is the best cure
She turned off the history
She preached; I’m felicity, I am beige now.
I’m the saint of all saints,
I study people,
I’m above everyone
I’m exotic,
I am hommous,
I am tabbouleh.
I’m just another coconut girl
I tell people what is right and what is wrong
And in the meantime I uproot me
To be Arab and proud, what a combination
Is it logically feasible?
It scares me,
I see those pictures of my grandmothers that I burnt.
I apologize to the mirror and the children
It’s not about you
Grandma visits me in my dream, passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.
My self-hatred is blinding my vision; the cowboys taught me that I am brown because I am dirty,
They invented Clorox. I washed me with Clorox so that I can fit.
I don’t want to be dirty.
Grandma visits me in my dream, passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.
Brown bleached girl got pregnant
She gave birth to a brown little boy who was holding a rock
I’m a mere rusty brown link on the chain of “us's” identity
I happened to be a prime number
A second generation ya grandmother
Don’t blame me
Brown Jesus visits me in my dream, passes his gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.
by Lubna Warawra
Once upon a time coconut girl ran into a child holding a rock,
The child's eyes turned into a big mirror
Coconut girl saw the mirror for the first time in her life.
A moment of self-discovery
She didn’t like what she saw
She was scared
she smashed the mirror
100,000 pieces the mirror scattered
Each one has the same picture: Coconut girl
A l00, 000 coconut girls
The child died on the cross
Went to heaven
A whole generation passed
The 100,000 mirrors grew up mirror trees
Each with 100,000 more mirrors with brown girls on them
Mirrors speak; I am your identity, I am your grandmother El hajjeh, back in the old country
Look into my eyes; I’m your mirror
Erase me from your diary; you can’t erase me from your genes.
Brown on brown
She tore down grandmother's picture but grandmother still existed
The more she avoided looking into the child's brown eyes the more she was dissolving
Living in denial is the best cure
She turned off the history
She preached; I’m felicity, I am beige now.
I’m the saint of all saints,
I study people,
I’m above everyone
I’m exotic,
I am hommous,
I am tabbouleh.
I’m just another coconut girl
I tell people what is right and what is wrong
And in the meantime I uproot me
To be Arab and proud, what a combination
Is it logically feasible?
It scares me,
I see those pictures of my grandmothers that I burnt.
I apologize to the mirror and the children
It’s not about you
Grandma visits me in my dream, passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.
My self-hatred is blinding my vision; the cowboys taught me that I am brown because I am dirty,
They invented Clorox. I washed me with Clorox so that I can fit.
I don’t want to be dirty.
Grandma visits me in my dream, passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.
Brown bleached girl got pregnant
She gave birth to a brown little boy who was holding a rock
I’m a mere rusty brown link on the chain of “us's” identity
I happened to be a prime number
A second generation ya grandmother
Don’t blame me
Brown Jesus visits me in my dream, passes his gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.