May 7, 2017 12:00 am Published by Leave your thoughts


“His Majesty’s Government view with favour the establishment in
Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their
best endeavors to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being
clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the
civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in
Palestine or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any
other country.”

Palestine was not His Majesty’s Government’s to give away. 
Though, it was nice of His Majesty to promise, by the way,
That nothing would “be done which may prejudice the civil 
And religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine.”
How big of His Britannic Majesty to issue a promise so supine.
How wonderfully naïve, cynical and cruel of that
Imperial wizard and his perfidious hangers on.
Not much has changed in a hundred years:
May and those before and after her still hold these truths to be self evident
That all men are born equal – except for Palestinians. 
That all humans are endowed with the inalienable right
To own property – except for Palestinians who take perverse 
And incomprehensible pleasure in having their properties demolished
To make way for the chosen few without a land. 
That all those breathing have the right to life, property 
And the pursuit of happiness – except those troublesome 
Palestinians whose preferences tend towards poverty,
Exile, refugee status, imprisonment and much sought after death. 
One hundred years of double standards dressed up as civilised intercourse. 
One hundred years of great cruelty disguised as Christian love. 
One hundred years of refugee squalor and despair 
Pretending to receive others’ charity, laced with golden bullets and impatience. 
One hundred years of rewriting history through the barrel of a gun;
And blaming the victims for their self inflicted horrors – 
Take away their water and call them dirty;
Steal their food and call them beggars;
Close their schools and call them ignorant;
Kill their children and call them prima donnas;
Squeeze the life out of them and call them moaners. 
And, after one hundred years, we are reduced 
To silence, told to get over it and move on;
And, cornered, bereft, tired, hungry for our freedom
We refuse to go away – like a boil that can’t be lanced. 
Standing steadfast – back bent, legs curved, minds oppressed
We shall not be moved and we shall not get over it 
And move on – unless we move where our souls belong – in Palestine. 
And so, we police our oppressors’ occupation,
And, to appear to be doing something, propose a motion,
That Albion apologise for giving away our home – just apologise –
So that we can, at last, see, with dimmed and tearful eyes,
Some recognition of our injustice, loss and…
And then, in another hundred years; we will write another poem.

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This post was written by Faysal Mikdadi

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