Strong Like Palestinian Coffee

They were strong like the coffee

that they drank each day

and thick as thieves, as they say

only they weren’t the thieves…

They were thick as that coffee,

but they were sweet, not bitter

though they had every right to be

these refugees

still holding on

to their grandparents keys

from seventy years ago

because, reading fortunes

in empty cups

they saw reason enough

to never give up

and they never gave up

and they never will

I may have forgotten

the taste of that coffee

but I remember their strength, still

back at the refugee camp

full of love

in a place where there’s bullet proof vests

on the doves

and in their weathered, outstretched hands

they hold olive branches

and the keys

to their stolen land.

 

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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