Under the Palestinian Olive Tree
Under the Palestinian Olive Trees
They cut down the trees and shoot the farmers, unarmed, in the belly in plain view of IDF soldiers relishing the moment. Here in the West Bank, human rights is exiled and devoured by the fury of Torah-toting violent settlers spewing venom.
How sweet it is to die under the shades of their olive trees,
Binding them to their tortured history, and the wind that blows the branches dancing, oblivious to the daily terror, beating their conspiracy.
The olive trees whisper stories of love,
the hills sing ancient hymns,
witness to a message of hate planted by the separation walls,
thinking they would sink the farmers into submission.
But, the farmers watch, children keep playing, and the ghosts of centuries
past are guardians of the land.
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