Free on the sun’s surface, the tyranny of one-oh-nines glisten in their tears. Free as flesh ripped from children’s cheeks. I prefer to die with head high… than to live in humility and renounce the principles which are sacred to me. We lie in a field of grass and death. Sharp flashes, an aeon in a millisecond, shred through churches like paper, the sky melts into steel beams. Free-flying black flags. Red fangs. A business tie. Born to kill. The screaming voices, a wordless bomb. Ink lines blur. Shadows retreat. Without dignity there is no freedom, without justice there is no dignity, and without independence there are no free men. Orange bleeds out of the clouds. Orange spits out of the earth. A watch clicks. Hands bound together like firewood, a photo flash engulfs everything in its darkness, one-by-one along the assembly line, gears splice open their chests, claws are sinking into hearts, a glass cage. To put all that’s left inside. Bleeding into the black pool of oil. That is why they have shut us away in prison and why they keep us far away from the people. But my faith remains indestructible. A teardrop in the image of Palestine.
