أناديكم

I call you. I press your hands. I kiss the ground whereon you stand ...and I say: My life is yours. I give you the light in my eyes, the warmth in my heart, for the tragedy I am living is part of you own. I call you. I press your hands. I refused shame in my country. I did not bend my shoulders. I turned and faced my oppressors. Orphaned, naked and with bare feet, I carried my blood in my palms and never lowered my flags. I have kept watch over the grass On the tombs of my ancestors. I call you… I press your hands…

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