Hold the hope, my sunbird,
Hold that hope.
In times of thunder,
Choking blazes and smoke,
Don’t lose hope.
It’s this hope she wants to burn.
The vision of home.
The passion for the golden dome.
The love for your rivers.
The bond with your soil.
She is erasing history each day,
Her unspeakable secrets interred with the rubble of the turmoil.
It’s not the stones and history laden rocks,
But your eyes that she fears.
It’s the resilience of your spirit,
And the courage of your heart,
Threatening her at the frontiers.
It’s that hope, my sunbird,
Hope for an “open-air” boundless sky.
There will be nights of sunshine, warm and dry.
You will spread your wings,
Dark and blue.
Your nest will be safe, no one to intrude.
Your murderers might be within cold ten feet,
But your mind is yours,
Unenslaved and free,
Let it be.
Hold that hope, my sunbird,
Keep the flickers alive.
In times of thunder,
From dust you shall rise.
– Ruqaiya Takreem contributed this poem to The Palestine Chronicle
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