I cannot pull it out of a status,
or force it out from a tweet.
I cannot vanish it from a youtube clip.
I wish I could.
Even as tears stain my face,
and lumps refuse to fade in my throat,
I cannot cry Zionism away.
I cannot write away the hate and bile of occupation.
I cannot put enough words together to force the world to confront
A people being written out of history.
As quiet as open air prisons and phosphorous bombs and check points and aparthied walls
and prisons packed full of little rock wielding children.
Palestine is being erased in deafening silence.
On our watch.
And I am trying because I know history will never forgive me.
I'm trying to memorise every name of every dead child they allow us to know.
I am trying to take a mental picture every time I see a mother crying.
I am trying never to be hardened to the shame that Zionism exists on our watch;
I want it to forever reach every part of me.
I want to never have a logical response to 'why';
I need it to always baffle me
That 'promises' from God could bring the devil himself on earth.
If you were meant for it
Would it not have been more humane?
I am trying to never stop being rocked to my core
When I hear Gaza is being bombed again.
I need to be remember it always.
So that I can face my own children at least
When they look at me
and wonder how we let Palestine disappear.
On our watch.
This cannot feel rudimentary,
Even if it has been for too long.
I cannot feel like it must just be.
So I am trying to sing my resistance
I am Palestinian while Zionism is in existance.
Steal the land, kill the people, take even the falafel.
But a random Somali girl in London sings 'viva Palestina' with everything she touches .
I will not let Palestine be erased quietly.
On my watch.
Copyright © 2012