3 Poems For Palestine Poem by Farrah Sarafa

1. The first poem likens recent Gaza bloodshed and media propaganda to a vampire.
2. The second poem delves into the refreshing experience of solidarity during an NYC protest for Palestine.
3, The third poem probes introspectively into WHY we have a duty and longing to protest at all.
*

VAMIRIC ENMITY

Hearts drained of red blood.
Sheaths of warmth, love, and sanctity
torn viciously like the formal contracts
binding humanity.

Innocence bewails,
as mothers' babies are stolen
away, like the basic right to hydrate,
eat and dignity.

Crimson that ribboned
Israel's pleasant Saturday,
Anchors Palestinians every day,
in captivity

being crucified
for flukes of a few, who do fight
for freedom to breathe: move, swim, pray, and love.
Criminality,

Alleged ‘Terrorists'
Expunged to bowels, borders
for the neighbors to hopefully absorb:
Hostile Enmity.

Yet advanced warfare,
amid hospitals, movie sets,
vineries and fancy tourist enclaves
won't help. Casualty…

‘Surrender Hamas',
Then ‘we may help but help yourselves! '
"Better just die! Dissolve into vapor…"
Animosity.

Why? ‘We know the soil, '
as it permeates olive oil:
emerald, green like ocean meets valley,
Originality

Propaganda shield
Meant to justify Genocide
Media warfare, misinformation
Bloodshed; venality.
*

Painting Palestine through Protest

We painted Manhattan PALESTINE this day.
Green, Black, and Red— reflected interminably
off mirrored skyscrapers. Facets of
Emerald, Onyx, and Ruby braided street wires

into nutritious gyres that dynamize all.
Lighting fire fractals of freedom from within,
those khaffiyeh belts, flags and headbands of protest
inspire bystanders to accessorize

Better. Stronger.
We are all one: Sisters and Brothers

Bound by the Green of olive trees, zaatar leaves.
and jasmine laden irises of newborns
from within Hebron, Gaza, Jenin—
Palestinians cry shades of labradorite.

Tears imbued with iridescence flash
to grandpa jido's large fig tree whose canopy
once concealed safe memories and hill stones—
retaliation for exhuming family bones.

Glimpses of the glistening seaside devolve
into visions of blinding ash from buildings shot
down instantly, precisely dissolved
into remnants of a much milder dust bowl.

Estranged by the cloaked colonizers in Black,
cadavers ferment decrepitly from Gaza…
Cold stone onyx pupils narrate pain,
stories lost with rain refueled by intifada.

Protest tenderizes outlook and sympathies.
Ruby Red fires hint muhammarra and blood
Hearts sizzle, torpedo and eclipse
like pomegranates whose chambers hold truth in bud.
*

Moonlight Pill


Most of us cannot imagine screaming from our cores—
from underneath a pile of rubble,
only to have it rain double
debris that splits your family from four

Most of us cannot imagine treading obstacle
On the way to buy milk…walking to school…
Lambs poisoned and trees burnt with fuel
upon returning—this is no ordinary rule.

Most of us cannot imagine praying for freedom
within a sacred, stone, lead and gold dome—
where your prophet once preached, his home—
only to be shot at, tear gassed, and arrested.

Most of us cannot imagine watching our land
seized by foreigners against our will.
They deface, drill and derive thrill
from destroying your grandma's grave, garden and quill.

Well, this is the Palestine pill for you. A wall stands
protecting the eyes of Israelis
accustomed to fragrant sea breezes
and multilayered intentions to seize it all.

Coexist? An unforeseeable dream—tender gleams
of moonlight sneak in their arak shots,
but it is never enough. Robots
will likely roam the earth before coexisting.

*