Children were meant to dream and paint, to laugh and be innocent, to bring us joy, to simply, be birds..
and I hear the birds crying, powerless, angry and flightless.
their trees have been cut down, their forests of security have been burned, the shelters are destroyed, the sky is dark, the ground is hot. if i fly i fall, If I walk I burn, and If I open my eyes I cry.
I'm a million shattered pieces of pain, I lost my Mom, my Dad, my siblings, where I grew up, my friends, my school, my toys. and I'm left behind, I'm left.
It's the birds of Palestine and anywhere else in the world where justice has lost its forms and left us Children with broken hearts.
it's where I belong, to the flocks of the flightless birds.
they teach me strength, and I can only remember this:
"Time cannot break the bird’s wing from the bird.
Bird and wing together
Go down, one feather.
No thing that ever flew,
Not the lark, not you,
Can die as others do."
p.s: The ending is "To a young Poet By Edna. St. Vincent Millay."