I have inherited a legacy of exile, a longing for home, and a steadfast resolution to remain in our land.

Once upon a time / In a land not so far / A people lived in peace / How pure they truly are!

The sun will rise again, and we refuse to become refugees again. This is our home and our land.

I still hold the key and tie it to my heart/The key to the house that used to be mine.

If I was asked to live that day again, I would never hesitate to put on my kuffiyeh and go. Like any other refugee, I am condemned with the hope of return.

My hope is that when my children, or the children of my children, experience peace in their land, they will look at each other and say, how dare they? Just as we now do with the Holocaust.

“It runs through my blood/I carry all its shades”

The nightmare of waking up from a family outing to the Yaffa sea.

I hope the new US secretary of state will see our common pain.

We cannot forget the past, but we can choose to live in the present.

I close my eyes and imagine…

How I learned that I belonged in a “category.”