A
poet dies today; dies. present tense.The Palestinians have rearranged life, death, time itself;
unlike another other martyrs: they possess no past, no future,
they die in the everlasting present.
I'm glad to
report, He does not die alone, his entire family bids farewell: to me, to you, to IDF soldiers and their masters, the State of Israel, who I'm sure are happy and proud of this achievement. We had no
doubt they could do it.
None is happier than poet and his family who belong eternally to Gaza now. I say bury them fast in an undisclosed location so that all Israelis from now to three thousand years carry a tine particle of these brave people.
Thosands of years from now, Allah will have the last say and all there will be is the state of one: Palestine.
Israel has killed so many of them that their entire genetic material will be everywhere: on the ground, trees, food supply, on the very air Israelis breathe.
They will sing and dance and praise each other in victory, they will believe to be the chosen people and carry on living. As PALESTINIANS.
Perhaps there was a Moses who went up in the mountain and came back with the Torah announcement: Jews are the chosen people.
Chosen to carry the DNA of Palestinians forward, for they were not of this time; soulful beings mistakenly attached to the ground. But the Israelis have freed them all, and will forever be earthbound, like birds of the ground, feathers as heavy as the lead in their bombs.