Sonnet for Palestine By Hanan Tuffaha

Olive branch wields unrelenting teardrops

To water the soil of its foundation

Fingers outstretched as a shield for its crop

The skin of ancient bark awaits cremation

This land gave birth to my bloodline

Before the Nakba, when it was taken

Where my *جدو picked fresh grapes off the vine

And built the home his children would live in

Now, explosions ring promise of morning

White phosphorous fog clouds once-blue sky

Hands that shaped life are left with a warning:

Evicted from home or destined to die

(...)

(...)

*pronounced “Jeddo,” meaning grandfather in Arabic