I am a piece amidst millions of miles of land.
Stepped on
Thrown around by the wind of a dozen ominous hands
and left without notice.
I do not exist.
I should exist.
I once did exist.
I am the mother of the bravest dreamers
strongest fighters
and brightest believers.
Bruised
I am.
Abused
I am.
Older than my identity crisis.
More wanted than the orange tree that the child feeds from in Yaffa
My birth certificate is used against me.
It crumbles like a fragile scrap of paper.
Like the one used to eradicate my existence.
A part of me still exists and breathes
Like a patient fighting for his life
on a respirator as doctors search for the valves that would pump life back into my shriveled heart.
I exist.
I am known by billions and shared by millions.
Under a foreign name that I cannot succumb to call my own.
But I exist.
-----------
For Palestine.
Edited: 05.14.21
YOU ARE READING
Let Me Speak
PoetryLet me speak for all of the people in the Middle East who want their voices to be heard. Let me tell you just how hard is. Let me shape how life threatening it can become. Let me explain to you what the media doesn't want you to know. Let me sho...
