A LITANY FOR “ONE LAND”
After Audre Lorde

(Mosab Abu Toha, from Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear)

For those living on the other side,
we can see you, we can see the rain
when it pours on your (our) fields, on your (our) valleys,
and when it slides down the roofs of your
“modern” houses (built atop our homes).
Can you take off your sunglasses and look at us here,
see how the rain has flooded our streets,
how the children’s umbrellas have been pierced
by a prickly downpour on their way to school?
The trees you see have been watered with our tears.
They bear no fruit.
The red roses take their color from our blood.
They smell of death.
The river that separates us from you is just
a mirage you created when you expelled us.
It is one land!
For those who are standing on the other side
shooting at us, spitting on us,
how long can you stand there, fenced by hate?
Are you going to keep your black glasses on
until you’re unable to put them down?
Soon, we won’t be here for you to watch.
It won’t matter if you blink your eyes or not,
if you can stand or not.
You won’t cross that river
to take more lands,
because you will vanish into your mirage.
You can’t build a new colony on our graves.
And when we die,
our bones will continue to grow,
to reach and intertwine with the roots of the olive
and orange trees, to bathe in the sweet Yaffa sea.
One day, we will be born again when you’re not there. Because this land knows us. She is our mother.
When we die, we’re just resting in her womb
until the darkness is cleared.
For those who are NOT here anymore,
We have been here forever.
We have been speaking but you
never cared to listen.