By Nahida the exiled Palestinian
His name was Palestinian
Issa… Jesus he was called
On the altar of “chosen-ness” he was crucified
Time and time and time again
*****
His face was Palestinian
Olive, with a hint of agony
Yet
Years of torture fail to conceal the glow
The purity of his soul peeks through
The sparkle in his eyes invites you to dive in
*****
His pain was Palestinian
The colour of his words
Grips your guts
And squeeze… squeeze … squeeze
Until you lose consciousness
You fall on your knees
Begging for forgiveness
*****
His faith was Palestinian
“Their sadism too much to bear
In the street I waited for a car
No way out but to kill myself
Twilight hour the fall of night
The call to prayer woken my heart
Healing balsam caressed my soul
Maybe…. In this life… still…there is something…
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