It’s my people, in those boats
It’s my people,
the Malaysians who sail with nothing
but their hearts as cargo,
and God's compass for mercy
blistered hands carrying sacks of flour,
medicine, hope and water

It’s my people,
who would rather face
the cannons of an empire
than the silence of complicity
They know full well, the sea is cruel
that checkpoints float in those ocean tides
that blue and white warships
shadow them like vultures

And yet, my people
would rather be swallowed by the sea
than watch a child in Gaza
die without bread

It’s my people,
who turn courage into oars
who stitch their faith to the horizon
knowing death waits on both shores
yet still they go
Still, they rise,
still they row
because no blockade can cage compassion

It's my people
who risk their lives
to remind the world
that Palestine is not alone
that humanity is not for sale
that love, if true,
is defiance

It’s my people, here at home
from the prime minister’s pulpit
to the restless classrooms of students
my friends who read the news between lectures
Chinese, Indians and Christians
asking me what happened
while we were in midst of examination

It's my people
whose essays stumble
because their hearts are in Gaza
It’s my people
little angels tugging at their mothers’ skirts,
asking "mommy, why are they crying?"
Tell me, how will we answer to our children
about the kids on TV
crying without toys,
crying without fathers,
pleading without light?

It’s my people,
who slam their fists against dinner tables
who scroll their phones until dawn
who curse at tekhelet blue bombs
as though their rage alone
could shield the streets of Rafah

It’s my people,
learning too young
what powerlessness tastes like
yet refusing
to turn numb
refusing
to be desensitized
by other's plight

It’s my people, the diaspora
scattered in foreign lands
from Statue Of Liberty, Big Ben,
to the Opera and White House
faces lit by candlelight vigils
arms hoisting banners that read
“Ceasefire Now.”

It’s my people,
who wear keffiyehs in the cold
who can't be silenced in lecture halls
who risk their scholarships, their visas
their safety, for a cause
that beats louder than their own hearts

It’s my people,
who trade their weekends for marches
their voices for megaphones
their breath for chants
that bounce off steel skyscrapers:
“From the river to the sea”
"From the river to the sea"
because our people are master of the sea
accents echo every colonizer's apathy

It’s my people,
who carry Malaysia in their throats
and Palestine in their bones
because it's my people,
the red in our flag
the red in our blood
passports bravery
in the name of humanity

It’s my people,
and they are not even Malaysian
Strangers in strange lands with no stake
but still they stand
with my people
because they're my people too
the Irish
who remember their hunger
the South Africans
who remember apartheid
the Latinos
who remember stolen lands

It’s my people,
the poets
who bleed verses in languages
I do not speak, yet I feel them
the journalists
who died for telling the truth
the mothers
who wailed in squares of Europe
until their voices spurred into prayers
They're my people
because humanity does not ask for nationality
What is courage, if not the cost of peace?

It’s my people,
the Palestinians
the reason we sail
the reason we march
the reason we rage and refuse silence

Because my people, the Palestinians
have to bury their children at sunrise
and plant olive trees by noon
children digging graves with their bare hands
fathers shielding walls with their bodies
mothers turning hunger into lullabies

It’s my people,
teaching the world what sumud means
that steadfastness is not a slogan
but blood that refuses to be erased
extensively rooted like a watermelon

It’s my people,
who have turned every alley into scripture
every olive tree into testimony
every breathing into a promise
a promise of peace
may peace be upon you,
my solidarity

It’s my people,
in the boats, in the classrooms
in the streets of foreign cities
in the mouths of allies
in the vigils, in the protests
in the rubbles, in the songs
and in the heart of...Palestine
and when Palestine breathes
the whole world will finally inhale
and until they are free,
I will not look away
Because they're my people
The reason I'm writing this at 2:30 am
Because they're our people
And if they fall,
we all fall
But if they rise,
then justice
will rise
with
them.