Day 949

You say you are going to hang us
for our resistance.  For wanting
to stay alive.  Hang us?  From
what trees?  From the olive trees,
the lemon trees you have already
destroyed?  With what
rope?  From rope made
of the hair of our sisters, our mothers?
You say you are going to hang us
for having names.  Mouths.  Ears.
For having laughter.  For having dreams.
For weeping over the deaths
of our children.  For having children.
You say you are going to hang
our strength?  Our history?  Our poetry?
You’re going to hang our longing
for freedom?  Our thirst for justice?
Go ahead, tie your cord
around our souls.  Then stand
in a pool your own foul blood
and watch us fly off like leaves
in the wind.  Watch us slip out
of the knots you have made
and hover above you
like wild birds whose wingspan
embraces the whole land
we’ve loved, our songs
of liberation echoing
through your fantasies
that you will have destroyed us.