Cradled In The Arms Of Love!

A mother leans over her son as the people of Palestine lean over the land to try and protect it. A mother's arms surround her child as the people of Palestine do their very best to surround their land with hope. A mother whispers encouragement and soothing words into her child's ear, as the people of Palestine speak strength and courage to one another. A mother looks into the eyes of fear as the people of Palestine look death and destruction in the eye everyday.

What love this mother gives to her child, like the people of Palestine love their land. What tenderness this mother offers her child, like the the people of Palestine walk carefully over rubble and constant demolishment. Mother and child cling tightly to each other, like the people of Palestine grip the land and refuse to let it go.

And when the breath leaves and the body is spent, a mother gets closer, holds on, never wants to let go, just as the people of Palestine see their land suffocating, dying, squeezed into extinction. The son is gone, the mother lives, like the land of Palestine, stolen, raped, desecrated by occupiers, yet the mothers of Palestine still give birth, bring forth life, create new generations of hope.

What do you say to a mother whose child dies in her arms? How do you look her in the eye? How can you possibly know the pain in the heart of a mother whose body gave birth to this little life and has to witness the death of one who should outlive her?

The people of Palestine thrive. They strive. They cling tenaciously to whatever scrap of land is left. They will never give up. They will choose to continue to fight. Because they know. Under foot are souls of warriors, innocents, pure blood that seeps into the earth. Stilled voices that need to be remembered. Bodies that now nourish the soil. A history in every rock, every crater, every building smashed into the ground.

It is a harsh history. A painful story. A heartbreaking tale. But it will be told. It must be heard. And if just one heart opens, supports, reaches out a hand of help, a voice of hope, then maybe, just maybe, this mother, and all mothers of Palestine would not have lost a child for nothing.

Every life event has meaning. And what is the meaning of the Palestinian struggle for the world? That it is cruel and barbaric to continue to sit in silence and do nothing. That the world should be so completely ashamed of itself for letting this atrocity continue. That to see one more child, mother, father, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, grandparent die for land, for occupation and oppressive power is to blacken one's own soul with evil, stain one's own heart with callousness, become an accomplice no matter how small in murder.

This mother is covered with the life blood of her own child. The world is covered in the blood of an entire people. Think about that the next time you turn a blind eye, have a deaf ear, turn your mind away from the constant plight and killing of the Palestinian people.

Long live Palestine.

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