Palestine

Palestine,land of olives and grapes,

Once a place of peace, now a site of endless escapes.

the streets, once filled with laughter and song,

Now echo the sounds of bombs and sirens all night long.

The keys to our homes, a symbol of our lost past,

The memories we keep, a pain that will always last.

Our fields, once fertile and rich, now reduced to dust,

The fertile crescent, now a barren wasteland, a symbol of distrust.

Oh Palestine, you are the wound that never heals,

A reminder of what was lost, of what could have been real.

The pain of our displacement, a sorrow that will not end,

The Nakba, a memory that will always be with us, until the very end.

We will not forget, the villages that once were,

The homes we left behind, the land that was ours.

We will keep our dreams alive, of a Palestine that's free,