By Adeel Ahmad

As I lay in the pool of my own blood, half my body buried under the ruble and the ruins of what five minutes ago was my ancestral home, Where my father taught me how to walk before his father told him how to walk ….

Yes, it’s me as I gasp for air because the force of the concrete is pressing against my chest and with each breath of air, the ruble constricts around me like a Zionist snake constricting it’s victim. I am Palestine….

Yes, it’s me in shock where my mind is trying to tell my body, it’s all a dream and it will be over when I wake up in the afterlife; while you sleep peacefully in your abodes of abundance in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar, uae so on and so forth…

Yes, it is me. My name is Palestine as I breathe the fumes of the bomb that took away my family, my little 2 year old daughter who called me baba. When I came home with nothing; not even a piece of candy for her after a failed day of obtaining any labor, she still welcomed me with open arms and her smile was as divine as the smiles of Angels themselves..Alas I can not even move to gather the small pieces of her angel body that lays across the ruble to give her a hug goodbye before i join her in a few minutes….

Yes, this is me as the shine in my eyes slowly fades away due to lack of blood and oxygen in my Brain; but don’t be fooled. All of my life is flashing right before my eyes right now in full splendor – My wife the ever patient companion through thick and thin, through sickness and health, through poverty and abundance – She was sitting right beside me as we were about to open our fast ..My Mother, bless her smiles, was on the other side with my little son in her lap, looking at us her whole universe …

We didn’t have much to eat but it was enough to take us to tomorrow..not that it matters anymore.. My little son, the man of the house, just 4 years old but wise beyond years. I never remember him asking me for anything; neither candies nor toys. Now that i come to think, I never even saw him laugh. He was an old soul in the body of a 4 year old, walked to the end of the street with me every morning as i went to search for work and waited for me there every evening when I returned home…he insisted on carrying my tools on the short walk back home and in those few steps he became my strength…

Yes, this is me as my eyes have grown dark and I can’t see but my mind is still echoing with distant memories..i remember they said Pakistan has got nuclear bombs. Now they will come to save us they said…yes i remember celebrating in the streets of gaza of khanyounis camp of ramallah the sense of pride…but as time passed those happy moments faded away too like the memories in my mind are fading away as i descend in to the dark abyss of the hereafter..

Yes, this is me as my soul soars above my crushed body and I rise towards the heavens I can see the ruins of my home. A little more height and i can see clouds of smoke rising from the Gaza strip all around me. I hear screams and I see other souls departing the open air prison that I called home …I See settlers on the other side of the wall on high hills sitting in camping chairs lighting camp fires and having beers while they see us being killed…I see it all…

Yes, this is me. My Name is Palestine and I see a lot of things, but my regret is what I don’t or rather didn’t see in my life time.

• i didn’t see…I don’t see the custodians of the two holy mosques declaring sermons to the Ummah to come to the Aid of Me and my people in Palestine..I didn’t see them donating their Oil money and their zakat to light our homes so that our children could know how it feels to have luminescence in the night, to have heat in the winter and to have cooling in the summer.

• I didn’t see the Neo Ottomans, the turks, the warriors, the liberators of Muslims, I didn’t see them coming to the aid of the forgotten people of Palestine with their EU trade agreements and with their nato bases and with their armies..

• I didn’t see the Mujaheddin of Syria and the isis of the Iraq and Ikhwan of Egypt coming to the aid of the oppressed brothers here, in the only place where Jihad should have been declared 60 years ago.

• I didn’t see the ayatollahs of Iran, the clerics whose words spit fire towards the western nations but whose actions speak otherwise.

• I didn’t see the armies of Azerbaijan and Pakistan coming to the aid of the oppressed of the Ummah for which they have to answer very soon.

Yes, my Name is Still Palestine and even as these are the last words, I will ever utter, I will still remain Palestine since I was here before Mosis and I will remain here after Israel will be long gone…For Palestine is not made out of flesh and blood or brick and stone but it is made out of the flames of resistance that can never be put out. Yes, my Name is Palestine and I am the last thorn into the side of Zionism, and if I fall you shall all be next lest you wake up and Hold on to the Rope of Allah and Unite not for the sake of my salvation but yours .