Artist: D Temple, Flyers for Falastin

There is a poem that most of us—if not all—know by heart:
“If I Must Die,” by the martyred Dr. Refaat Alareer.
Each of us carries our own version now—our own “If I Must Die” last will.

As for me—
If I must die, let my body remain whole.
Let my hands still know my arms.
Let my feet still remember the weight of my legs.
Let my heart remain in my chest,
and give my head the privilege
of staying connected to my neck.
Let no rescuer have to kneel in the rubble searching for the rest of me.

If I must die, I do not want to leave behind a fingertip, a lock of hair, a splinter of bone—
not one part of me for the wind to carry,
not one part of me to vanish in the dust,
turning brown as the sand until no one knows it was once me.

If I must die, do not let them burn me.
Let my skin keep its bronze glow, the sun’s mark that I have worn all my life.
Do not let it turn black in the smoke,
do not let the fire erase the color that conjures the memory of my childhood.

If I must die, let death come softly—
as softly as death can.
Perhaps a shard will pierce my chest, and I will be martyred in peace,
my small body still my own.
Or perhaps my tender heart will stop at the sound of the missile’s roar
before it tears through our tent.

If I must die—let me die whole:
no burns,
no amputation,
no crushing,
no scattering.

If I must die… let it be a whole—
a body the earth can recognize as its own.

If I must die by Dr. Refaat Alareer