Hands were tainted and corruption prevailed in the apple box I staked on. Rot spread and expanded after worms infested it. Our era lost its purity and now it flaunts its victories and imposes its dominance. It shed my blood and displaced my children. I lost my initial innocence in front of their eyes. They distanced from me gradually until my existence became just a beautiful memory children recite and those who touched me mourn. That's if I'm not just ruins to those who tasted the sweetness of peace by fleeing, escaping the possibility of death in my embrace. Everything I had, they coveted and fought me for until they took it from me, making separation the destiny of a mother constantly yearning for her lost children.

I don't understand all this injustice towards the charms that were squandered, my roots that were tarnished. Sometimes by those I considered protectors, and sometimes by a hostile neighbor. Am I an assumed mother that hasn't found a man to guard her like Umar ibn al-Khattab or armies like the troops of Salahuddin Ayubi to regain and maintain her dignity? Or have men become fearful of my pride and resilience that troubled them over the ages? Despite their triumphs, my children have vowed revenge for me. They offered themselves as sacrifices, were brutally killed, had their honor violated, and were displaced from their homes. With no weapons, but with righteousness in their hands, they confront their tyrannical enemy who doesn’t care for their humanity and shows no mercy to their children or elders.

Parents danced behind the corpses of their offspring, and mothers whose tears had dried sang mourning songs. The youth learned the cruelty of colonialism, the resilience and anger from the apathy of nations. Stationed internally, they vowed revenge and predicted victory.

These lives won't be wasted; their photos line the walls, book covers, and daily newspaper pages. The years of imprisonment, torment, and sacrifices made by great souls will not be forgotten. They bore the coffins, walked barefoot over camp wires, and under the bombardment of Zionists and their allies.

Where's the zeal for the future of my children who now master their language and learn in their schools? They no longer possess a passport or currency that proves my motherhood. Where's the truth among the lies that strips them of their roots and erases their ancestral history? Where's the peace they proclaim while they assault my properties every day, after they’ve gnawed at every part of me, violated my borders, besieged my people, and profaned my sanctities?

I am Palestine. Do you remember me? Despite being marginalized, I maintain the dignity of an Arab heritage that forsakes me. If you look for valor, you'll find it only in my depths, in the pride and honor I stand for.

So, the borders of my geography neighbor to recognize this fighting mother, to wander in the monuments of her dignity, to pluck the bunches of grapes dangling on her walls, to scent the genuine past in her streets. I am mesmerized by the qualities of her genuine people, their rooted conviction, their joy in our presence, and our support for their cause.

But feelings of disdain prevailed, especially after witnessing the untelevised reality, discovering truths covered up, and feeling the sorrows and wounds that words can't express. Humanity suffers as the world looks on, just to provide preferential treatment to an occupier that has breached every blatant international law and human right.

A captive nation needs us to console them and wipe their tears, after they defended the honor of the nation and maintained its dignity. Yet our cowardice failed us in the face of the nation's apathy and the corruption of politics.

We weren’t there when they were displaced from their homes, when their blood covered the olive trees, when they were forced by traitors to fight an unequal battle to determine their rightful destiny passed down for centuries. We weren’t there when their honor was violated, their leaders assassinated, when they were besieged, starved, or when their bodies were desecrated. We weren't there ever, and we won't be.