My heart belongs to your soil

To my brothers and sisters in Palestine

 Whenever your blood flows

I feel impaled and my heart belongs to your soil

And my soul belongs to both our maker

I reach out for your olive trees

And in my dream, I have taken uprooted trunks

And twigs and hold them between my hands

As if to plant them to fields of freedom

Embracing your sun I am running

To water the soil not with my tears

But with prayers embracing every grain

Pick fruits not the twigs not the trunks

The roots come alive in the will of Allah