As a Palestinian, I’m never doing enough. In no way is this thought derived from a cynical perspective but rather a hopeful one, recognizing the many roads of resistance, the broad and windy alleyways of truth that one can chose to travel, the tight and more controversial paths that some dare to walk.
As a Palestinian you have what others should envy.
as a Palestinian a pen becomes your gardening tool that ties you to the fields of olive trees, a paintbrush is what you use to place yourself back into the background of a golden dome and church bells, the voice in which you sing your story carries the sound of home along, as it carries the sweet scent of the stones of Jerusalem.
I wish that the way I write about my passion for Palestine may deceive you into thinking that I stepped foot on its fertile ground, just as much as I wish that it shock you to know that I have never done so; why I hope that my bad fortune strikes you in a bewildering manner, is I want you to understand that this is not just my story but the story of many others, every Palestinian has been affected by everyday that has passed ever-since Zionism began disturbing the balance of religions that existed in the cradle of faiths.
We empower ourselves by reliving our painful memories, we empower ourselves by looking at our past, our culture and history, looking into the future of Palestine, we empower our selves by knowing that our soldiers have not fallen in vain, that oppression will no longer wreak lost childhoods.
We resist from the moment of conception until the darkness of the grave, yet even as we eventually return to the land, in our memories grow the seeds of freedom, as reminder of what has passed and what is to become.
No matter the flaws and no matter the mistakes we have made, we must always look into the horizon and infinitely ask ourselves; How can we become free ?.