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It Is I
It is I,
Only able to
Sit before
The mischievous screen
Of the TV
And watch
Palestine, my country,
Fall like a
Corpse
On cold land
It is I,
Deemed
To observe
The homes and
Lives of my
Brothers and sisters
Turn into ashes
On an embellished LG
Flat-screen
It is I,
Spotting on the news
The olive trees of a
Palestinian fertile
Field flame
Into barren barks
Of nothingness
It is I,
Viewing the
Tanks and
Weaponed metal
Turn audacious
Rock-throwers
Into heroic martyrs
While changing
Some channels
It is I,
My generous name is,
A Palestinian simply
Deprived of
Setting a foot into
Palestine.
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