Now over is the sovereignty of terror and mistrust,
And begun has the time of freedom.
This is the Arabic spring.
At dawn each day my people sung,
Till those who silenced us came to teach what we had for centuries known.
We had no voice,
No opinion, no real choice,
For we were held in silence.
The earth was watered by my brother’s blood,
The children’s lullaby was the gunshots and bombings
That hit their homes
And they woke each day with death on their minds.
Where is my brother?!
Where is my brother?!
He was stolen from my arms in the dead of the dying night,
He was taken, because he refused to take their offer of blood. He chose to fight.
Where are my children?
Where are they?
They were ripped from their simple strings of life,
Buried beneath the ground that has become fertile on their rich blood,
On their innocent souls.
I wish I could hold their bodies to my heart,
I wish I could see my brother once again,
I wish I could wail over them,
I wish we didn’t have to part.
But those who took them had no mercy,
They pulled their corpses from my breaking limbs
They laughed at my screaming bloody hands as they pulled from them my life,
My tears pooled at their feet, but still they did not give.
The monster inside me is ravenous
It is pushing, pushing, pushing
Against my calm façade
It grinds against my mind,
Just as you grind from outside
You’ve taken my voice, cut off my tongue,
Filled my lungs with every sorrow known to the sun.
But I have never knelt.
You wanted me to kneel at your feet,
But I knew my kneeling was only for my lord.
Oh my lord! Put out this fire in my heart
Give me strength, do not let it part,
Give me courage so I can stand and speak against those who killed my life,
Who fed my children lies, who for thirty years made this tyranny and this strife.
For thirty years my corpse has laid beneath your muffling soil,
Till my heart screamed, my blood boiled.
I saw the child that died on that sidewalk beneath your stare,
I saw the treaties you made in dark with those who murdered my youth,
I saw the hatred you planted in every heart since my birth.
You tried to shape the words my mouth would make,
But my tongue preferred silence.
You tried to bend my knees so they would break,
But they never knew obedience.
You wrapped your chains around me,
So I could only watch as you wreaked your havoc on me,
But now I have escaped,
Now my anger is fiercer beyond what your minds could ever create.
I have risen up from your earth
And strung my children around me as they recall all that you did.
I hear as they scream to me about your secret prisons that never saw the light of sun,
I cry as they tell of the children who were ripped from the arms of their mothers,
I scream as they weep to me tales of all that happened here, on my land.
But I have risen,
And you shall never make me fall once more.
You can blare lies about my children,
You can set your whole army against me,
You can burn my verses and my songs,
But I will not fall.
You can rape my women,
Destroy my men,
Maim my babies,
But I will not fall.
You can bomb my every home,
Cut off electricity from my hospitals,
Tear gas the protesters that chant in my streets,
But I will not fall.
Not today,
The day when tongues got tired of silence,
When knees got tired of breaking to bend,
When the night kissed the day goodbye in fear for not seeing her again,
When the spirits came down to my people,
When we rose up.
There will come a day when we shall sit together,
When everyone shall be my brother,
When lies happen only in books,
When you promise and fulfill,
When my children have enough to eat.
But till that day I warn you:
My people will not Fall,
This is the Arabic Spring.