Defiance

Tighten my fetters.
Confiscate my papers
and cigarettes.
Fill my mouth with dust.
Poetry is blood in the heart,
salt in bread,
moisture in eyes.
It is written with fingernails,
with eyes,
with daggers.
I shall proclaim in my detention cell,
in the bathroom,
in the stable,
under the lash,
manacled,
in the violence of chains,
that a million birds
on the branches of my heart,
are singing fighting songs.

by Mahmoud Darwish

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Comments (3)

Trees have many functions! Both literal and figurative
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out
A beautiful poem about escape and death. Time nor even death can change a man who truly knows who he is.