Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
At the dawn of July…
“The Descendant” steps upon the thresholds of ruins,
Carrying a heavy legacy in his saddlebag,
And a voice that still echoes in the halls of history:
**”No… to the masks of humiliation at Camp David!”**
The Father (Ismail) saw with the sharp eyes of foresight…
That rushing to align was the beginning of ruin,
And that applauding the oppressor is sterile, sickening, and divisive.
So he flung his resignation into the face of the wind, and departed with nobility…
While the land decayed in morals, health, conscience, and spirit.
—
And today… the Son rings the bells,
But hears nothing but the echo of shameful “normalization”!
He seeks to visit the wound in its cradle…
Only to receive the slap of Zionist rejection—
A delayed vengeance against the pride of the departed Father!
The glaring irony…
Is that “Fahmy” flies to the meeting in Aqaba,
To shake hands with “Abu Mazen” on a land…
Whose rulers sold their horses, and bought chains!
They hold the whips of coercion and humiliation…
Yet they “turned a blind eye”,
And became guards in Netanyahu’s barracks!
—
The statement is issued as usual:
**”Cold ink on hot anxiety”**
Repetitive talk about “the resilience of the people” and the “two-state solution”,
While bulldozers devour the West Bank,
Tax revenues are plundered,
And normalized capitals toast to a counterfeit peace!
They speak of “elections” in November,
While the people beneath the rubble search for shelter and flour!
—
O people of resolve… O remnants of the honorable,
Invest in the “new knight of the League”…
Before the choke of helplessness overtakes him,
And before he discovers—like his father—that he rides the wind,
Only to scream in the faces of the silent with a resounding resignation:
**”I am a knight… but without a horse!”**
