Craft Beetle
Black Olive Green Olive
Today I harvested olives for the first time in my life. I became more myself as I did. I tied another
knot with my people in the process. I pulled and bent the branches into reach and picked olives by
the handful. I picked them green and red and black.
There were no drones overhead. There were no thieves with knives and guns. There were no men setting my
tree and home ablaze. There were no settlers harassing my mother as she watered the fig tree. There were
no thugs demanding I leave my home. There were no soldiers protecting the villains. There were no
killers stalking me. There was no danger, no noise, no fear.
I carried my olives inside in an orange clay pot.
I cried.
Free Palestine now and forever.
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