My Home

By Amanne Alkenni

My home, is an isolated camp

Once tents lined up side-by-side

Now stone buildings posing as home

For the millions of us misplaced.

My home, is a passionate village

Where martyrs are born ready

They embrace death

In hope of welcoming a new life for a people.

My home, is a city of rage

The heart of the Intifada

Where the stones are our protectors

And the people stand up

Against the enemy.

My home, is now invisible

Burnt to the ground in '48

The only traces that remain:

The fading memories of our eldery

And the keys that shall once again open their front doors.

My home, is a land of occupation

Stained with the blood of our own

Preserved with the birth of each generation.

My home, the camp, the village,

The city of rage,

the invisible rumble,

The land of occupation,

They call it Falesteen,

And I will give my life to set her free.