Mahmoud and Malik in Karbala

I am crushed under the hooves of an Israeli tank;
Shot from afar for throwing a stone.
I am every child who dies needlessly;
Riddled with bullets and slain
going to school.

I am dust under a bunker buster,
A shadow of me lies where the bombs fell.
I lie in blood at the side of a checkpoint,
As my mother and I depart
My father cries, alone.

Tonight they came again, and
I was born with a different name.
My parents bereft
I was briefly a soldier
And I have won.
My name is recorded everywhere
And each year you weep.

I am Qasim of the Intifada
And today my name is
Mahmoud Abou Samra
And I am Malik Shat.

Our mothers’ tears are of pain
and also pride and
we join the battlefield
in some way, everyday
unbeknown to you who cry.

You do not - dare not, care not? –
Join me,
So at least learn my name:
I am Farish Oudeh, and Mohammed Al-Durra
I am Iyman Hams.
I am Yahya Hayek and
Haya and Lama Hamdan.

Remember me and cry tears of sorrow
And rejoice
For I died in Karbala today.

I am Qasim of the Intifada,
Endlessly crushed under the hooves of Yazid’s army
So you will be free.
All the Qasims have liberated you
And yet,
You still do not see.