“The Blood of Our Children is Dripping From Their Hands”

NOVANEWS

by mantiqaltayr

Catastrophe
By Zainab al-Ashkar
The story began on one fateful day
When the new world was born and the old passed away
It was the year of nineteen hundred and forty eight
And the event was the creation of a brand new state
All had seemed well in this bright new world
The realization of humanity’s plans newly unfurled
But little did our fair race realize
The pain and suffering that was to materialize
For this new state had a much darker goal
They seized our ancient homeland and asserted their control
They imported strangers into our land, and thus began our plight
For see these new residents wanted us out of their sight
Then a plan was initiated to make room for the new
Taken straight from Hitler’s playbook, our exodus had ensued
Our children’s future now uncertain, our families without a home
We were forced to bear our burdens and trek the long journey alone
The memories of home was all that remain
For the charred skeletons of our villages now dotted the terrain
In the blink of an eye, we were a nation on the run
Forced to leave our homes and villages at the barrel of a gun
Many an innocent died on this trek into the unknown
The rest were condemned to live in lands that weren’t our own
Meanwhile the world watched this tragedy unfold
The new residents facilitating the displacement of the old
The world cheered them on, ever so sympathetic
The reasons for this were simple yet pathetic
They claimed they were the rightful owners of every rock and tree
In this great land called Israel, because God gave them the key
No longer were we welcome in the land our fathers known
Where ancient culture was fostered and our family trees sown
Now we are strangers in no man’s land, with severed blood and ties
Relinquishing it to immigrants based on a multitude of lies
Lies that were created, developed, exported to the masses
Believed by people of all nations, ages, races, and classes
The world blinded to our suffering, we yearned for a voice
We found it in resistance; we were left with little choice
But the blowback hit us hard, the accusations, labels, and fears
Now deafened the world to our suffering and tears
Little did they care of the spark called Zionism
They dismissed our plight with words like “terrorism”
After six decades, it seems little has changed
The truth may find its way out, but is quickly rearranged
The media, the clerics, the foreign policy makers
They are a lot less like doves, and more like undertakers
The blood of our children is dripping from their hands
As the remnant of our great people are slaughtered in our lands
The world cares not; still they turn a blind eye
Because the preachers, the rabbis, even the imams continue to deny
That the real problem is still the old one, it needs to be stated
Its name is Zionism, it’s a concept long outdated
Religious supremacy and racial elitists dominate the stage
They’re responsible for our oppression and the cause of our rage
One day I know though, that our struggle will prevail
Putting Zionism in its coffin and securing its final nail
Then and only then we be sovereign in our lands
These are our RIGHTS, not our privileges or demands
The land was ours, from the beginning of time
Resistance against the usurpers was far from a crime
It is the only way to ensure a long and lasting peace
Once Zionism is extinguished only then will we cease
I am wholly uncertain that my lifetime will see this through
But I am hopeful that with the generation new
There will be a victory over the oppressors, and in a glorious celebration
We will finally be able to realize the return of our nation
And echoing off the mountains and resounding through time
Will be the eternal words, “Long Live the Free Palestine!”
Zainab al-Ashkar’s poem was published in May of 20120 in The Palestine Chronicle. It is reprinted here with Ms. Al-Ashkar’s permission.
The Nakba means “the catastrophe”  that befell the Palestinians at the hands of Zionist Jews when Israel was created in 1948.

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