Artist: Malaka Abu Owda, Flyers for Falastin

I’m a whisper caught in the city’s breath,
An echo trapped in the screams of death.
Like a root lost, in a world without place,
I roam among shadows, without a trace.

I dwell in pink dreams where passion once soared,
Yet here I have fallen, to walk as a ghost, ignored,
A memory etched in the hearts of the slain,
The forty-four thousand martyrs, the pain.

Among lifeless bodies, I wander alone,
A shadow of existence, no longer my own.
In the names of the departed, my spirit takes flight,
In their stories, I find death’s darkest light.

And here I remain, my feet still on this ground,
Carrying their voices, a chorus profound.
I want to stay the specter that walks unseen,
Among the traces of where they have been.

Let me weave their tales into the night,
To restore their dreams to stolen light.
In silence, I’ll stand, a witness, a guide,
For the lost and broken, forever by their side.