I return to the shore again and again, searching for freedom in the only horizon still open to me.

I know Jerusalem, our capital / from pictures / I see the Dome of the Rock / on the covers of my books.

Every day, the farmer counts his goats on the besieged farm. / He says he counts them to guard / against the dogs / that lurk.

When my friends asked me to go with them to the Great Return March, I had no idea what to expect.

When I go to the protests by the border, I stare at the fence and wonder.

He ran to the front to save another, and lost his own life instead.