Take my hand
Take my hand, O brother,
You are not so different to I,
Stripped of culture, creed and masks,
We laugh, we cry, we envy, we die.
But take me to the checkpoint,
Take me to the wall,
The bastard child of Israel,
Smeared with your spirited scrawl:
‘Jesus wept for Jerusalem,’
‘Give me back my ball,’
‘Existence is resistance,’
‘Here, habibi, we fall.’
And watch me cross the border.
A privilege of birth,
Watch me show my passport,
My defining factor of worth.
‘Your eyes are brown’ you said to me,
‘Just like a Palestinian,’
But your P ID defines your life,
Your boundaries, your human rights.
I come, I see, I ask of you,
‘How can you live with so much joy?
They treat you like a terrorist,
No talking, just a bloody fist.’
And then your brown eyes looked to mine,
Entangled them and then replied,
‘God chose this place to come to us,
Christ was not scared. In him I trust,
All is fallen, all is rot
Please do not judge, that is God’s lot,
Do not take sides in bitter rage,
For ’twas such things which formed this cage.
So break the chain, love all you meet,
And pray that peace may find his seat,
Among the bloodshed and the hate,
The Lord, your God, will shape our fate.’
– Angelika Ketzer –