Ode to the Olive Trees

Hardened after decades of adaptations
deep rooted desert strains
a tantalizing sun, scintillating
leaves in air that steals your breath, ghosts
Of children hidden to fight wild hamsin winds—
Climb boughs, deflect the scratches made by rough bark,
Fall over into toughened earth, catapult
stones at the armed men waiting at the barbed-wire fence.
Rows and rows of irregularly spaced
crooked gnarled branches growing into eternity
a grove of olive trees, children behind
an unmovable rock, calls to the Jordan river.
In Bethlehem the tree that has survived the longest
would take only seconds to destroy—
A hack saw electric style to the tree’s trunk
An explosive bullet in a young boys leg
Children surge to the forbidden border
a stream of rubberized smoke, burning tires
a slingshot of stones against barrier
barbed wire and the wall, earth cleared
Where sacred olive trees once stood, an opening
to aim rifles at the marchers’ heads, an armored
tank oversees roads Palestinians cannot travel
Military tear gas to upend the bodies moving toward the wall
Families, whole villages gather to harvest the olive trees
In the shade, a claim to their lands, women sit
Embroider starlike patterns into black cloth
reds that bleed, reds that refuse removal
while settlers from illegal outposts trample
the harvest, steal the olives left behind when harvesters flee
danger. The olives shaken from these ancient trees
press into the finest oils, the daily flow of resistance.

Three hundred year old trees
steadfast against the scars
etched into strong untainted wood, the people
continue to the march of return, raise their hands
with gestures of drawing their faces
on the maps of villages their grandparents recall,
forced removal and release incantations

Al-Quds
Einabus
eternal spring
Isdud
Lydda
sumud

the keys to their homes
in their pockets
Jibata
Al-Quds
Al-Asqua Mosque
the Prophet waits their gifts—
olive seeds, oil
hands that caress ancient

roots.

Written by Carla Schick

Carla Schick, educator, Queer Social Justice activist. Their works have appeared in Gathering of the Tribes, Earth’s Daughters, California Quarterly, & Invisible Ink. They received first place in the Barbara Mandigo Kelly Peace Poetry prize (2012, 2018). Theirpoetry will appear in the next issue of Milvia Street.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s