Guilt came knocking at my door,
no longer a stranger, but still greeted with a tear.
Guilt made my home its keep, and me a prisoner to its nagging questions.
All that’s left is a picture he took with his dad
I promised that the future would look past the bullet holes
that they would not die in vain
that I would hold their memory
and meet them in the end
but Guilt wasn’t content with my broken promises
“ya 3alam wayna?”
they just wanted peace
so I remained imprisoned, while the world moves on.
Grief’s cold embrace wasn’t far beyond Guilt’s
I had no answers to either
To my Guilt there is no forgiveness, only my Grief
neither refuse to leave.
Palestine will be FREE InshaAllah.