Should one sing by the voice of
one and others silenced.
Shut! Speak!
Silence speaks.
Silence speaks like a rapping knock
  to its host.
Should the voice of a singer sings
louder than its crowd.
The singer sings.
Crowd cheers than their crowd.
Should silence speaks when voices
speaks?
Who hears the voice of the dead?
Who hears the voice of
emptiness?
Barren.
Who hears nothing when it never
happens.
Silence speaks
And its biro writes [un]willingly.

I dream to fight you everyday
Because I hate it when you get your way
I dream to fight you every light
Because I can feel your betrayal
Every night

I dreamed to fight you
Like when waves hit the sand
And I'll keep dreaming
Every time I can't stand
Every single compliment you give
And each time you didn't let me live

I dream to fight you
Because I'm jealous of your roots
How you are still a child
And haven't had to deal with many of these truths
I dream to fight you
In each and every way
Kicking and screaming and yelling and punching
Until you listen to what I have to say

I dream to fight you
Because you know what I have lost
Yet you don't seem to blink an eye
Or realize how much of me it cost
And I'll dream to fight you
In every moon and, every sun
Because you think so low of me
But one day I will show you that I have won

She speaks cannon *****
and good morning blues.
She speaks sweet lilies
and rosebuds in June.

She speaks soft
as little light beams.
She speaks rainbows
over tall evergreens.

She speaks sonnets
and low melodies.
She speaks quietly—
freedom, over me.

It was always the words I said.
It was never the way I said them—

never the way I screamed,
never the way I whispered,
never the way I spoke with eloquence,
sweetness, kindness, or grace.

It was never the way I spoke with wisdom,
or the way I spoke with knowledge.
Never the way I spoke as a woman,
or the way I spoke as a friend.

It was never the way I spoke
with tears in my eyes,
or with a clenched fist.

It was always the words I said—
the words you didn’t want to hear,
the words you refused to hear,
the words you refused to listen to.

Words that would have made you care,
that would have forced you to act,
that would have demanded you
to sacrifice something.

It was never how I said them
that turned you away from me.

It was always the words themselves—
that you refused to believe.

Let’s go back before it starts,  
Before the war, the bombs, the shattered hearts.  

Before the time when peace was bright,  
Palestine stood in golden light.  
Then strangers came, seeking space,  
And Palestinians gave with grace.  

All was well—till greed crept in,  
A slow betrayal, a growing sin.  
One by one, they claimed the land,  
Till war was forced by their own hand.  

Have you ever thanked the ones  
Who sheltered you beneath their sun?  
But kindness was not what you sought,  
Only power—only "mine" was taught.  

You took their homes, you took their lives,  
Yet still, their prayers rise and rise.  
You paint the land in black and red,  
But judgment waits for what lies ahead.  

They hold a place in paradise,  
While fire awaits your sacrifice.  
You chase the world that fades so fast,  
While they seek peace that ever lasts.  

We pray to God to grant their plea,  
For justice, truth, and dignity.  
Go ahead—do as you will,  
But history speaks, and time stands still.

It speaks to me
hold your breath
feel my skin
underneath.
It speaks to me
hold your neck
feel my sweat
underneath.