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Hajjar Baban

  |  May 20, 2015

Between a hard place and a hard place,
This is struggle.
Malcolm X said if you are not willing to die for it take the word freedom out of your vocabulary,
But I don't think that's enough to think about when dead bodies scatter streets
When progress seems a lot farther than Malcolm's time, because his oppressors chose even his time for him.

Struggle is something we can’t ignore,
Because these dead bodies,
Muffled mothers' screams,
Are not seen on TV.
No news coverage,
No empathy,
This is struggle.
Struggle isn't having trouble writing about things you think aren’t personal,
They made this personal.

Struggle is being able to relate something so foreign to something so familiar, Something that happens more often than recognized.
You have no trouble writing about struggle when clouds are replaced with struggle,
The smoke of dead bodies you do not have the luxury of identifying.
Palestine is the dead bodies, dying families do not have the luxury of identifying.
In Palestine,
There is struggle,
Struggle farther than too many people having no trouble writing about struggle.

The struggle in Palestine is pretending it doesn't exist,
Pretending their people do not exist and like that the name is lifted from the map,
Where their people and culture and visibility and struggle are replaced.
Where no bodies can hide from slaughter from genocide,
Where bodies only know of genocide of struggle,
Where genocide and struggle cling to their bodies better than family because that too is taken away from you in Palestine.
Because in Palestine you cannot be Palestinian,
But you can disappear,
Over dead bodies and screaming mothers.
That hard place.

You read,

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