Freedom Fighters

For living in their country

For loving their homeland

They were imprisoned

And

In their homes

Was where the story began.

They were

Peacefully living

Wouldn’t harm a fly

Or kill a flower

Or take off a plant.

At  home

Playing with their infants

In the backyard

They were.

A father throwing his son a ball

How hazardous that is

To men with guns

And bombs.

Gun shots

Very loud sounds

And in a second

The soldiers got inside the house.

Women were beaten

Children were scattered on the ground

The feathers kept in the vase

Were everywhere around.

A father and a mother

On that day

Said goodbye to a son

To a man

A Palestinian

They knew they were never going to see again.

On the light of a candle

And on the sound of drones

That no longer at home son

Was raised

Was born.

Freedom Fighters

That’s all what they were

Better yet

Are meant to be.

From inside the cells

From inside the solitary confinements

You can hear their voices

Their whispers

To the night

And daylight

Which to them are both alike.

They are beaten

With wooden sticks

It’s nothing

However

Compared to the iron ones.

We ,on the other side of the bars,

Are captured

Are imprisoned

Not allowed to write

 To say what’s right!

To fight.

They fold our eyes

They shut our mouths

And on news the occupation’s spokesman praises

The urge to let people talk

To support freedom of speech

And To say things aloud.

Bad healthcare

No family visits.

No longer do our men have fathers

Mothers

Or children

Or wives

Everything is by force taken from them

Life is dragged out of their bodies

Memories are stolen.

And the list goes on and on

Till they die

Till their bodies are freed

And to ash they return

Then they are buried

Under the grave they were captured in

And their souls fly to

Where they truly lived

In their land

In their childhood home

As martyrs to their mothers and fathers

They return

And that’s where the story ends

And a new chapter of another fighter

Begins

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