Fifteen years ago, I bought an olive tree sapling at a fundraiser. The small plants were carefully transported from Palestine and one found its way into our backyard. I remember planting it while my three children were playing around me. Little did I know that, like them, the tree would not only thrive, but it would also grow to become a notable presence in our garden and our lives 바카라” a daily testament to resilience. Let바카라™s all of us remember this: no matter where the borders on this earth are drawn and redrawn by pre-colonials, colonials, and post-colonials, our Earth will always grow Palestinian trees, Palestinian children, and Palestinian hope.바카라¯Â
This poem is written in honour of all of them.Â
The Olive Tree
Negative spaceÂ
White between the branches of oliveÂ
Looking up, I count the spiky leaves바카라¯Â
Drawing pictures in the skyÂ
Pockets of air in barbed wireÂ
Faces and places peeking바카라¯Â
Behind shards of military greenÂ
A coincidence?바카라¯Â
This fateful colour for a treeÂ
Caught in crossfire?Â
Or was it created to endure?Â
To recount the lives of peopleÂ
Who refuse to stop breathing?Â
I am grateful for this seedÂ
This sapling that found me바카라¯Â
I wonder what checkpoints it crossedÂ
What paths brought it hereÂ
To help me remember바카라¯Â
The age of my childrenÂ
And the stories of others바카라™바카라¯Â
(Ghia Haddad lives in Dubai. She can be reached at her website https://www.ghiahaddad.com/ and on Instagram at @ghia_artdesign.)
