The night is long faced,
accustomed as it is to misfortune,
every night the Palestinian,
under occupation, since 1948,
tries to sleep in its shadow.
It's people killed everyday,
children left as orphans,
daily it is hit, in the face,
and in the guts,
again and again,
until this process,
starts to feel normal.
This is the taste of occupation,
people learning to live in fear everyday,
knowing that any minute, their front door,
could be kicked down, trying to stay human,
trying desperately to stay sane,
knowing that their children, mothers and fathers,
may never return home again.
The children are seen as terrorists ,
for simply using slingshots against tanks and drones,
the media likes to portray it as a terrorist state,
its people as the enemy,
while turning the bully,
into a victim.
In the mornings, seeds of bitterness spread,
as grim days stretch out this peoples agony,
and the longing for their liberation,
and though Palestine does not exist on the map,
it exists in the hearts of millions around the world.
Like the night, they have learnt,
that with warm buds of thirst,
freedom is existence, and existence is freedom,
and that one day, from the rivers to the sea ,
with hope on their sides, they will be free.