Author: Nur Watad

It Has Been One and Seventy-Five Years
Drones hover, piercing through the ears.
Familiar neighbourhoods, once engulfed in comfort now empty;
Homes crumble upon bodies—
Some die instantly, while others slowly.
Mothers left childless, and fathers weep,
Children tremble, their eyes filled with terror.
Winter came and passed, and rumbling thunder on the displaced seeped.
Spring arrived, and so did summer.
And now, winter has returned in a whirlwind,
Tents consumed with despair; starvation yet lingers in the streets.
Theatrical airdrops deceive the displaced,
Hunger is intertwined with political starvation, resulting in animal feed.
From the thunder, they seek rain to quench their thirst—
All laws breached for self-preservation first.
Hospitals breached, amputations abound; diseases spread.
Belongings stolen from homes, tanks ravaged, lives obliterated.
Classrooms turned to settings of massacres,
Airstrikes continue to shatter; ground incursions take place.
Displaced carry the remnants of family members in bags,
With no place to go, no place to hide
Loved ones missing, dead or alive
Under rubble or in hospitals, with no chance to find.

And a global revolution brews.
Those who speak of hostages protest every Saturday:
“Bring them home,” they chant.
Of what home do you speak,
When you’ve shattered homes?
And imprisoned?
What of the mass graves
And the flesh lining the streets?
What of the death toll,
The murder,
And genocidal attempts?
Each moment, of every day,
For the past year—
The deliberate killing, the burning alive.
What of those
Who succumbed to fear,
Cold,
Starved hunger,
Disease,
Lacking medical care?

And thus the world watched,
As psychological warfare paved,
As global aid was obstructed,
As worldwide encampments and student revolutions stirred.
The mobilization thundered:
We demand an arms embargo!
“But do you condemn?”
Disclose divest!
“We stand against all forms of colonialism, racism, and apartheid.”
Ceasefire now!
“But they have a right to defend themselves.”

And the people roared,
But desensitization cloaked.
Communities of support emerged,
And adaptive coping prevailed,
Despite altered territorial claims
And distortions of truth spread.
Despite radicalization taking root,
And indoctrination flourishing among the misled.

Moral justification twist violence 
In the guise of victim hood 
Dehumanization reigned and reigned and reigned
And genocide
Was just
Downplayed

They attempt to rewrite all that is written 
Claiming free of accountability in the name of victim
All while 
They ethnic cleanse 
They speak of security threats
And frame their narrative with need for self defense 
Crafting contradictions to provoke dissonance and to shift global discourse 

And yet amidst the depth of it all,
We prolong, and shall continue to prolong 
To cultivate, foster, fuel, and nurture 
Our existence and resistance will always takes form,  
And our resilience will weather the storm 
And in solidarity, we gather our might,  
Reclaiming Palestine, we rise to fight

One year and seventy five years 
Liberation is only getting near

It Has Been One and Seventy-Five Years
Author Nur Watad