Dear Little Palestine

<p>What I find nearly nothing about is books that can depict the momentum that resistance seeds are planted in the Palestinian child as a liberation mechanism liberation of the soul from all kinds of oppression.</p><p>It's strange how personal narratives mix with history and politics: when I recount my own story Zionism seems to weave its way into it more deeply than I expected. Suddenly Israel became part of my past it occupied not only my land but also my memory.</p><p>We succeeded in destroying the target and made it back leaving behind our blood rockets and fear. The next day we listened to the news of our operation on the radio. We were proud yet suddenly overcome with tears for those we lost that night. We prayed and mourned and silence became our companion just as the dark had been. Noise marked our beginning and light became our relentless pursuer - chasing us from rock to rock from valleys to trees.</p><p> The ground trembled beneath us thirsty for our blood. Each drop spilled would one day become a flower we thought an olive tree or perhaps even a butterfly.</p><p>You could almost smell the different tones of green from the dark to the light one with hot red pepper the sweet taste of chilli on the side of green onions and a few bites of moist chicken humid enough to give the fat it needs to reach its special liquidity. </p>