Rooted
Flood of crimson poppies
Soaking green fields
Sinking soil seeps
As Palestine weeps
Blood
Her olives, land, identity
Like the scarlet anemone
Stolen, colonised, appropriated-
Suddenly, laughably
‘Israeli’
A wild, ancient seed
Germinating in soil that buried
Tens of generations of Palestinians passed
Al-Shaqa’iq al-Nu’man now recast –
Israel’s national flower,
‘Kalandit’
Erasing, replacing, her twelve Arabic names
Long woven through Palestinian hair,
Literature, medicine, folk-tales
As old as the gnarled olive trees
Tended by calloused Arab hands
For centuries
And yet, in torturous spite,
Of land and people colonised,
The ancient hills of Galilee
Still bloom wildly,
Defiantly
Rooted in deep, burning pain,
A Palestine occupied, dehumanised, slain,
They deepen their scarlet flush,
Weeping tears of blood,
Solidarity
Resilient hills of green and crimson flame,
Calling to all beyond the Palestinian plain,
From our fire, distill
Unwavering love, collective will,
Sacrifice
Until our colours mark freedom’s flag
Not the scars of exiles,
Stateless, placeless, voiceless,
Rise
Until our tradition, history, identity
Reclaim their rightful integrity,
Break distorted, colonial narratives
And set the truth free,
Rise,
Rise,
Resist
Fatema Valji
