For The Arabs In Israel

I Don't Decide To Represent Anything Except Myself. But That Self Is Full Of Collective Memory.

We Are Captives Of What We Love, What We Desire, And What We Are.

If The Olive Trees Knew The Hands That Planted Them, Their Oil Would Become Tears.

We Are Captives, Even If Our Wheat Grows Over The Fences/ And Swallows Rise From Our Broken Chains./ We Are Captives Of What We Love, What We Desire, And What We Are.

Without Hope We Are Lost.