As the Olive cries, water floods at the feet,
As the Olive cries, tyrants grunt in defeat,
As the Olive cries, watering the scattered seeds,
As the Olive cries-- no one pays heed.
As the Olive cries, searching for her mother,
As the Olive cries, mourning her lost lover,
As the Olive cries, they try to crush her and grind her up,
As the Olive cries, refusing to break, they give up.
As the Olive cries, refusing to give its oil,
As the Olive cries, witnessing their blood boil.
As the Olive cries, they kick and thrash and yell in anger,
As the Olive cries, the leave without an answer.
As the Olive cries, she sees them mouth,
"The gunmen took the oil and filled her with water,"
The Olive cries because she knew the hands that planted her,
Those hands would never cut down her home,
They would never destroy her family,
They would never slaughter her mother and make her watch,
as she was crushed to pieces, forced to give up her oil.
Those hands even stopped her own children from climbing our home,
How could she let this happen?
Why did she leave us?
Woman, come and take me, even if you eat me,
I would rather be eaten by you than eaten by them.
Woman, I hope you plant another tree,
Water it with your earnest love,
And when your time comes, put it in your children's care.
Woman, I hope you can grow another family of Olives,
To remember me and my family.
As the Olive cries, knowing the woman's fate was not unlike her mother's,
And that of her children, was akin to hers,
The Olive rolls down the field and buries herself,
Hoping to see her mother soon, giving one last cry.
YOU ARE READING
As the Olive cries
Poetry"If the Olive trees knew the hands that planted them, their Oil would become tears" - Mahmoud Darwish Credits for cover art: @hibah_musthafa on IG. https://www.instagram.com/hibah_musthafa/p/C2UyvRexYrH/?img_index=1
