They say home is where the heart is,
But there’s a land where hearts don’t beat;
They only tremble and cry pools of blood.
Their homes were stripped from beneath their feet.

A land where screams
echo louder than laughter.
Where there are dreams
But no “‘happily ever after’.

But don’t worry your poor souls,
For that land is not yours.
So sit back and relax.
Count the goals,
Count the scores.

They say there’s a wall
Behind which, a mother calls:
“Ya Bunayya close your eyes!
Dream of a world beyond the wall;
A world where we can stand tall
…where bombs don’t fall.

Where children play in the streets
And unharmed they return home
With their fists full of…sweets.
They don’t need to pelt stones.”

But don’t worry your poor souls,
For that mother is not yours.
So sit back and relax.
Count the goals
Count the scores.

They say there’s an olive tree,
Under which children lie,
Counting the drones
As they marvel at the sky.

And as night falls,
On graves they lay.
Craving the warmth of a father’s embrace,
They spread their arms and pray.

For above the grave,
Above the trees,
Above the wall,
Above the drones,
There’s a King with a mighty throne.

“Ya Allah! we won’t cry,
We won’t complain.
Ya Allah! we only ask:
Take away the pain.”

“Ya Allah! we won’t cry,
We won’t complain.
For victory will be ours.
We’ll go home again…

…As soon as the men of our Ummah,
Are done with their game.”

Umm Haya
~ echoesofu ~