PALESTINE'S CRY

I am a child of Palestine. 

You see others roaming the streets.  

Some with no food. 

Some with deep wounds. 

some crippled.  

We are all lost.

We look for our loved dears under the blood. Under the bombs. Black smoke fills our lungs and fire burns and scars.

" Mother? Father? Brother? Sister? Where have you all gone?"

No one answers. No one listens.

I see my family. All gone. They bleed from their eyes.  

My baby sister is gone too. Her eyes are wide open . 

But she does not speak to me.  

No one does. They are all gone. All thats left  

Is red paint that chokes them 

in their cold, deep sleep. 

A sleep that never wakes.

I want things to get better. So i pray to God. At least he listens. I miss my family. But i cant cry any more tears. The salty, shinning water is all dryed out. My family is gone. Oh so far, far away. With our dear lord. The one true God. And with the singing voices of the angels and their glowing lights shinning. And with all the messengers of God. All in heaven's pretty sky.

I smile. But i still see that

the land i once knew was burnt to the ground. 

And the soilders. All laugh.

They beat me in the street but one. 

He smiles at me with a warm glow. And tells me to keep my head high. He waches me too and protects me with all his might. So now one day when i grow up i'll look Isreal in the eyes and say:

" Leave my Palestine in peace. I will not cry no more. I will be brave."

The nice soilder smiles. Now i dont see him anymore. But i know for just a short moment he was my angel.

The place Isreal takes  

from us but i can never brake.