Song of Jenin

[Consider]

Song of Jenin



Not enough tears on earth

to wash away the blood

Not enough blood on earth

to wash away the pain

Not enough faith on earth

to take away my shame

Pain in my heart

too hard to bear

Shame in my heart

for when I looked..

my brother was not there

I held up my head in pride

When the soldiers came

They never broke the man inside

Never flinched in pain,

never gave up my pride

I fought In Allah's name

For brotherhood I would have died

Couldn't you hear the cries

Couldn't you feel the pain

Didn't you realize

The butcher was back again

Fought a tank with a stone

But never thought I'd fight alone

Pain in my heart

to hard to bear

Shame in my heart

for when I looked..

my brother was not there

Did you hear me call your name

I tried to hold my ground

But my brother never came

No enemy cuts so deep

As when brother watches brother

be slaughtered like a sheep

what no gun could ever do

You have done to me

I have lost much faith in you

and my heart will never be

whole or happy or healed

Until Palestine is free

Until Islam sees unity

[Ankaboot]

i can't help it.
i don't care how far you think the analogy extends itself.
when i see you making that bus driver climb up and down
on and off the roof of his bus
for your amusement
for hours in the hot sun
i think of how we once had to dance and sing for them
while they shot our parents.
when i see you keep that woman
and her husband
at the checkpoint
while she's in labor
and you stand there
listening to her scream
watching as she gives birth
on the back seat of a taxi
i think of the walls around our own ghetto
and how we had to crawl through the sewers
looking for rats to eat
while we could hear their children playing
on the other side.
when i see you crush that house
and kill that woman
and her baby
with your armored bulldozer
because they didn't have a permit
i think of the way we were once forced to leave our homes
at the point of a gun.
and when i hear your general say
that in order to deal with the intifada
you must learn from the tactics of another general
one mr. stroop
in warsaw
i think of how they bombed our buildings
shot us as we fell from the roofs.
and i remember
how we wished we could kill their babies, too.
and i feel sick.
sick of your displaced anger
sick of your self-deception
sick of your attempts to deceive the rest of the world
sick of your accusations of anti-semitism
sick of your occupation
sick of your apartheid state
sick of zionism.
because standing here
in auschwitz, birkenau and warsaw
i see jenin, jaffa and rafah.
and i think of our ancestors
the jewish palestinians
who spoke so eloquently
in their arabic language.
but the dead cannot speak.
and now i find myself
again behind the wall of a ghetto
standing with millions of other palestinians.
and i find myself shouting
thawra! thawra! hatta al-naser!
tomorrow in jerusalem!

- David Rovics wrote this poem. In case you can't tell, he makes reference to abuse/humiliation the Palestinians face at checkpoints.