Where are you from? - An Encampment Poem

Where are you from?

A land of green, stripped of its olives, red seed, bleeds,

on black ash of hope, do you hear me ya Falasteen?

I am from the land of red sun and ash for air

The people who's fertile land will see the free rays of sunlight beckoning them their justice.

Your voice a rock, carried in a sling, shot out like a bullet.

We will be strong and you already are,

from wherever to wherever the message is spread.

When dreams are shredded, I saw flames burning in your eyes.

Lovers faced apart, lives being destroyed but their lies still continue.

One thing they don't know, is our hope is still with you.

In spite of this darkness, I was not alone.

I shared this cage with the wretched of the earth -

my brothers and sisters; the masses.

Isolated I was weak but with them we were strong.

Let the wind bring only spring and no more shells above the sky.

Let the sun be the only light over the people,

put down the fire burning all around them and ignite the flame of resistance.

From a tunnel emerged a fighter.. he walked to a tank, fought hard,

and became a martyr.

Where love and hope flourishes.

I am the land, the shivering blooms of hope and the roots of oat

Our trees of olive bloom, watered by our mother's womb,

from the resistance of my ancestors, from my children's hope,

from Casablanca to West Bank.

I've never seen the stars as much as I have from our camp.

Your heart throbs between my hands,

maybe in another universe we never left home.

From under the rubble, a silent child, roaring with glory.

I live in heaven and die,

you live in hell and live.

Where are you from?

Your screams echo around the world.

Does the world not hear where we are from?