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O Palestine, a poem by Mazin Qumsiyeh

This is a poem I wrote in 2005. still feel the same
(Published in Human Liberation (Nakba 48) Vol 1, No 1, Sept 2005; Published
also in French at ISM France )

Oh Palestine

Your sisters stayed in their palaces
With golden chains and shameless lies
Some grinned and aided criminals...
Others chose to veil their eyes
Some justify rape and expulsions
Others prayed to their silent gods.

When you thought they had their fills
In that dry June of decays,
They climbed over the hills
To finish the ghastly deeds

Sickening became the violations
Dark masses on your strong arms
arms that gently lifted orphans
Armenian, Circasian, Hebrew and Druze
Fractures on your white breasts
That gave milk to hungry babies
Bruises on your gentle fingers
That wiped the tears from so many eyes
Your sad eyes bear their marks
on a kind face that gave millions hopes

Maddening deafening sounds
Of violent bloody rapes
Of countless lengthy reports
Of motions, plans, and resolutions
that sacrificed justice and truths
at the altar of greedy egos

Where goes the hope of children dreams?
In awakening consciences?
In olive trees or returning cactuses?
In time, distance, or struggles?
In awakening heart deep in majestic mountains?
Beating beneath silent deserts?
Occasionally erupting 'intifadas'?

The lost men hopelesly lust for power crums
endlessly argue about keys
While she struggles to break the doors
And tear down the suffocating walls
Clans and Tribes follow mirages
and weaklings imagine strength in lies

But in the end no one denies
Your ancient spirit survives
To help heal all bruises
yours and ours
When the sun again shines
O Palestine

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