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


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