Roots Of Resistance

**Roots of Resistance** From the roots of resistance, our strength does bloom, In the face of oppression, we dispel the gloom. With hearts full of hope, and eyes set on the sky, My blood is Palestinian, we will never die. In the fields of our fathers, where the wildflowers grow, Stories of resilience in the rivers flow. With every dawn that breaks, with every night that falls, My land is Palestinian, within its ancient walls. Through the cries of the children, through the songs of the old, Our spirit remains unbroken, our story bold. With every prayer whispered, with every tear shed, On my oath, on my faith, our legacy is spread. In the bustling markets, in the quiet of the night, Our dreams of freedom burn ever so bright. Through the laughter and the sorrow, through the joy and the pain, My blood is Palestinian, in every vein. The olive trees stand as symbols of peace, Yet in their shadows, our struggles never cease. With roots deep and branches wide, My land is Palestinian, our hearts as our guide. In the face of the storm, we stand undeterred, Our voices united, our message heard. With every step forward, with every stand we take, On my oath, on my faith, our resolve will not break. From the hills of Hebron to the shores of Gaza's sea, Our spirit of resistance is wild and free. Through the trials of today, and the hopes of tomorrow, My blood is Palestinian, in joy and in sorrow. With the strength of our ancestors, we carry the flame, Of justice and freedom, in Palestine's name. Through the darkest of nights, and the brightest of days, My land is Palestinian, in countless ways. --- **The Storyteller's Tale** Gather 'round, children, and hear the tale, Of a time when our hearts were frail. The Nakba, the catastrophe, that tore us apart, Yet from its ashes, we found our heart. In 1948, the skies turned gray, As families were forced to flee away. Villages burned, homes turned to dust, But in our souls, a fire of trust. We walked through deserts, crossed the seas, With nothing but memories and the keys. To homes we left, to lands we lost, But our spirit endured, no matter the cost. The elders speak of days gone by, Of laughter and love under the same sky. Though scattered and torn, we hold on tight, To the dream of return, to the hope of light. In refugee camps, in foreign lands, We built new lives with our own hands. Yet the longing for home never fades, In our hearts, the promise of return pervades. Through generations, the story is told, Of a people resilient, brave, and bold. With every word, with every song, We remember where we truly belong. So listen, dear children, and hold this near, Our land, our people, we hold dear. On my oath, on my faith, we will remain, Palestinian in blood, through joy and pain.