I invited him to our refugee camp, al-Jaleel camp, half a century ago, to read a few of his poems. Met him again twice in Copenhagen: once when he was invited by the Danish writer’s association to comment his book: “I saw Ramallah”, and another to read a poem about Mahmoud Darweesh’s departure. Uprooting from his own town near Ramallah in “East Palestine” and not “West Bank” as he wrote, and roaming between three continents and living in 44 different places, was the bedrock of his vision towards himself and his Palestine. A friend of Naji al-Ali, Gassan Kanafani, Mahmoud Darweesh & Edward Saeed; the husband of the writer and critic Radwa Ashour, and the father of the poet Tameem left us only physically. A man who lived fully the dreams of his past as permanent facts, who tried to revolutionize the words of the language as a necessary step to reach the real revolution, the revolutionary who stood against the “System” & and the illusionary achievements of freedom, left the agonies of Exile & its burden to rest in peace, away from his beloved town. We were lucky among the Refugees to visit our demolished homes and reflect on our visits, whether Lubya (for me) or Deir Ghassana (for Marwaan), or Jerusalem ( for Edward Saeed); Palestine the idea will survive and flourish, although the whole land is still occupied. Poets, writers, musicians and artists are the soul of the people’s collective & personal identity and heritage that would never disappear.