Palestine (Apocalypse)

by SHAY

 

Is this Palestine? Or the apocalypse?
At this point, I can’t tell the difference.
Backyard, now a graveyard, of my family who worked
hard to build this farm
And never have we meant harm.
This land for centuries has been ours
but within hours
they decimated, desecrated, disintegrated
it all for settlements.
But what’s settling about these settlers?
Because if anything, I am unsettled
about the fact that I was thrown into a camp against my will.
They took the food, water, power, everything that was once mine,
and yet I’m expected to hide behind—
Rubble and smoke.
I can’t see anything through them yet neither does the West,
with its blank stares beyond a care, and if we dare
to resist and fight back, we are then the “barbarians” and “terrorists”.
Meanwhile the settlers are the “perfect victims”:
They hide behind rifles, as if they’re scared of rocks and pebbles:
our only means to defend ourselves
from their assaults overzealous.
They have taken life from the old, young, and unborn
yet Zionist lives are the ones the West mourns,
I can’t take it anymore! You know why?!
Because it’s only a matter of time

You can only turn your cheek so many times before your neck breaks
Either that or they’ll do it for you without hesitation.
We want peace, we’ve tried compromises, negotiations, but
For every dove we’ve sent over,
they’ve burned their wings and
ripped the olive branches from their beaks
But each time they make more bleak
The more substance they add
to these words that I speak
I am the #1 public enemy, but I reject this hegemony
And neither can you tell me differently
Because I know you are afraid of me.
At this point I couldn’t care less for Western sympathy
I may be trapped in this echo chamber but the rest of the world reverberates my anger
For Justice and freedom long overdue
For lies may sprint, but what wins marathons is the truth.

 

 



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