She was not afraid when the surveyors came. The olive harvest was at its peak and the presses were hungry. The pale Europeans were the ones in danger from the relentless Middle Eastern sun.
She was not afraid when the fighting broke out. Wars killed men, but they did not destroy fundamental truths. They belonged to the land and the land belonged to them. Nothing in the future or the past could separate the two.
She was not afraid when they dressed up as her people and destroyed the King David hotel. The truth does not fear the depravity of the liar, nor the lie no matter how many times it is repeated. The truth was soaked into every acre of land and every crop sown between ancestors’ bones.
She was not afraid when cowardly deeds were committed in her people’s name. She would not let the pen of her people’s history be seized by those unqualified to wield it. She wept with her oppressors, sharing the sorrow only known by those who bury their young, no matter what flag it is under.
She was not afraid when the sniper’s crosshairs found her heart. It was already rent by loss. The ground will always find room for more blood, but there is not room for another drop of fear.
