Poetry: Chalas means enough war

From Muslim roots, a voice does rise,

A tale of peace beneath the skies,

In ancient lands, where prophets roamed,

A sacred truth, now shared and owned.

“I am a Palestinian,” the voice does soar,

From Bethlehem’s door to Jordan’s shore,

A whispered plea, in twilight’s glow,

From an Arab heart, let understanding flow.

“Cursed is the man who trusts the arm of flesh,”

Jeremiah weeps, his voice afresh,

Yet in the soul of the chosen one,

A trust divine, the battle won.

In David’s tale, the sling takes flight,

Against the giant, faith alight,

No earthly might, nor armored steel,

But faith in God, his heart does feel.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart,”

Proverbs’ wisdom, a work of art,

In every beat, the faith resounds,

The heart, where deepest truth confounds.

“Woe to those who trust in chariots’ might,”

Isaiah cries, in moonlit night,

Yet in the chosen, trust takes flight,

In God’s own arms, their endless light.

“Love your neighbor as thyself,”

In Matthew’s verse, the call rings loud,

The chosen rise, both proud and bowed,

To bridge the gaps in love, they strive,

In every soul, the divine does thrive.

“Blessed are the peacemakers,” it’s told,

In every heart, these words take hold,

The new Israel, a beacon bright,

Guides the lost toward the light.

In Galatians, a truth profound,

No Jew nor Greek, but all are found,

In Christ, they stand, the chosen band,

A unity the world can’t withstand.

“Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly,”

Micah’s call, a sacred decree,

The chosen one, with open hand,

Fulfills the law in every land.

“To host the strangers,” the command,

The chosen rise, their hearts expand,

No borders bound their love, their grace,

A smile, a hug, in every face.

“Prepare the way for the Lord,” they sing,

In every act, God’s praises ring,

The new Israel, from Muslim birth,

Proclaims the Messiah’s return to earth.

“Blessed are the meek,” the Master preached,

In every step, their love’s reached,

From wounded roots, a new tree grows,

A balm for every pain that flows.

“Though persecuted, yet can bless,”

In every tear, a soul confess,

The chosen one, from Muslim kin,

Proclaims the peace that lies within.

“Hungry, yet can offer plenty,”

In every lack, a feast aplenty,

No earthly passport, yet a name,

Ambassador of heaven’s flame.

“Son of the King of Kings,” they say,

In every heart, their faith holds sway,

The new Israel, a chosen breed,

In every act, they plant a seed.

Sons of Abraham, they rise above,

In every heart, they kindle love,

A song of unity, they sing,

The chosen ones, God’s grace they bring.

In every land, in every race,

The new Israel, a divine embrace,

A prophecy fulfilled anew,

In chosen hearts, both old and true.

In ancient lands where olives grow,

Where Bethlehem’s sweet waters flow,

From Jenin’s heart, from Jordan’s shore,

A plea for peace, we can’t ignore.

In Jenin’s fields, where olives stand,

And Bethlehem’s ancient, holy land,

A voice cries out, both near and far,

From Jordan’s banks, like a morning star.

In unity, we rise, like morning suns,

Embracing all, the battle won, From

 A Disciple followed, a beacon bright,

Guiding the world toward endless light.

In every prayer, in every song,

In every heart where love belongs,

The new Israel, a sacred vow,

To peace, to love, we humbly bow.

Amid the roar of missiles and the clash of steel,
We raise our voices, though it seems surreal,
Abstract, ambiguous, yes, we know,
But out of fear, we strive to show.

In the sound of bullets, in explosions’ blare,
Amidst the weeping and deep despair,
From the grip of death, we fight to give life,
And out of hunger, we ease the strife.

It’s a message, loud and clear: Enough—
Chalas—we’ve endured too much, it’s tough,
Amid the fear, we stand and say,
“We’re here, we’re staying, we won’t sway.”

Palestinians, with a new eternal flame,
An identity that’s more than just a name.
If you can’t see, I cannot show,
But for those who hear, the message will grow.

We say no more to broken cries,
Our hearts are firm, our spirits rise.
We sow in faith, though all seems bare,
A land renewed in our whispered prayer.

With every act of love, we plant, we feed,
In times of famine, we still succeed.
A message echoes, strong and clear,
For those who listen, the truth draws near.

From ancient lands, where prophets trod,
We stand united, our trust in God.

I am the oppressed child who grew,
To bless the world, despite what I’ve been through.
I took your place—that’s why you hate,
Like Esau scorned his brother’s fate.

But in the end, Jacob wasted all,
And the blessing passed beyond his call.
Now God has raised, from stones of dust,
New sons of Abraham—faith and trust.