The dusk paints our skies softly as my footsteps echo across the mocking silence of the neighborhood, disturbing its nonexistent peace. The winds swirl around me violently whispering warnings, "Run my child, there is danger." But I do not run. I am the daughter of war, I am the child of battle, I am an immortal warrior carving footsteps that will write history. The history my brothers rewrote, rephrased, bespoken, putting me at fault.
The winds flee at the harsh sound of the click of his boots. I see him now, his figure attacks my once innocent eyes, he smiles, a savage smile that simply screams with hunger. He has found a prey, he is ready for the hunt. He approaches me as I glare at the image of a cruel vulnerable soldier, an image i know by heart.
I look at his uniform, the green uniform stained with martyr blood, the green uniform that swallows his body protected by guns and rifles at crime.
Guns and rifles that should be executed for murder. The soldier himself must be executed for murder, but where is justice when it comes to my land ?
Where is justice when it comes to my people ?
Where is justice when the shrieks of the children play chaotic symphonies of war?!
His coal lifeless eyes swipe any trace of innocence I have left, any at all, and he dares to ask in a husky ugly voice, "Who are you?”
" Who am I? You dare to ask?
I shall define myself.
I am a land.
I am a people oppressed between the claws of humanity.
Oppressed below the occupation of savages, of hungry beasts famished and never satisfied.
I am a land.
I am a people oppressed beneath the very eyes of my brothers.
Correction, my deaf blind brothers.
I am a piece of a shattered heart of a woman, a great woman possessing the name of Palestine.
I am a piece of a woman that has died and revived.
Died and revived.
Died a million deaths in a million ways yet still revived.
I am a people of an immortal land. I am the reason of the very existence of the immortal land.
I am the blood.
But pause. Define human.
Define human who does not possess a heart, who feeds off the souls of the innocent, who watches the deaths with winter chill.
I am a people that demands you to define human.
I roam this earth with rocks in my hands, blood in my eyes, silence lingering on my chipped lips and a hope. A mere hope smudged with courage and my definition of humanity drowned in my veins.
I am a people.
I am the people. The people you were not honored to be.
The people you are not honored to be.