Bethlehem Cancelled Christmas
Sleepless nights outstretched before me
in the dark grey murk of my anxiety,
haunted by the screams of an orphaned amputee.
What are we, if not a reflection of society?
Constantly checking daily death tolls in the red bar of doom;
desperate searches under the rubble, seventy days of gloom.
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I am not Palestinian, but I am human.
I am not Arab, but I am learning Arabic.
Living across the border in Egypt, safe but helpless.
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My voice is not louder than their veto.
My boycott is not stronger than their bombs.
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I am not Palestinian, but my blood is the same colour.
I am not Arab, but my ancestors tasted the same pain.
It may not be my land, but colonialism tainted
history red in all the lands I consider home.
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They label us barbarian and uncivilised like some tragic satire.
Who is the war-crazed coward pretending to be in power?
Piling up bodies, while the majority demand a permanent ceasefire.
Billions in foreign aid to target hospitals, schools, camps, and towers.
What is one year without tinsel compared to seventy-five years of oppression?
Are festivities cancelled — oh, what a question!
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My Christmas tree is resting in my parents’ garage;
why hang up ornaments before they hang up their arms?
Jesus would have been born cowering from their barrage;
His birthplace on Palestinian land they stole without any qualms.
Christmas cheer collects dust this year,
celebrations frozen like Gazan children’s fear.
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I am not Palestinian, but we are all human.
I am not Arab, but we are all united when we say:
“From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.”
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Together, our voices can tank their votes.
Together, our boycott can damage their bottom line.
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When they have no red lines, our humanity will bind us together.
When they try so hard to dehumanise, our humanity will shine brighter.
When the leaders of the ‘civilised’ democracies can’t get their act together —
We will unite for the unbreakable spirit of the Palestinian people;
chanting in mighty masses of solidarity:
“From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.”
Nitika Balaram is a writer and lawyer with a creative soul. Her work has been published in Swim Press and Written Tales Magazine. She was born in India, grew up in New Zealand and Australia, and lives in Egypt with her husband. Follow her writing journey on Instagram @nitika.balaram