Nobody in my town will wait more than 10 minutes without asking what’s matter
But in this occupied land, everybody have to stay hours and hours in this position
Under the sun under the rain under the cold progression of the line
Mothers they are, but most of them are fathers ans sons. Daughters, but also sisters and brothers
No police protect them from the police which stops them no justice defends them from the justice which denied them
They are the Other of the Same who is the Other of myself and the Other of my death, and the death of the Other
The Wall is upon then over them against them inside them and outside each one of their houses
The houses that soldiers are getting on, right now, to search one man
Who is nobody else than myself or the Other of myself or the friend of my friend fired by a soldier
Who’s the soldier of this death and where’s the fire of his death and the keys of his house
The house of his parents and the house of his life and the life of this country occupied by Others
The house of the Other protecting his country denying the existence of the whole Other’s country
Nobody will drive me to that nightmare. Until the new government will offer the country to stop build a Wall
Shaming my country, my town, my neighbors and friends. I have no friends yet
Wacthing this line of friends and friends of my no country. My love is far
Too far to see that Wall.
Too far to see that country, another time.
She did it.
She was there (oh maybe not in Bethlehem, but in Qalqiyya).
She said me
The color of Palestine don’t take light from the sun, but from the people
The people of Palestine don’t see the difference between love and wait
Hoping that she thought I was talking about love
(Shlomit Avni, Physicians for Human Rights. Photo: activestills.org)