From Returning to Haifa by Palestinian poet Mahmud Darwish (my translation):
"...
He now is emerging from us
like the earth emerges
from us on a rainy night
And blood is spilling from him
and ink is spilling from us...
What do we say to him?
Memory falls
on a dagger?
And evening is far
from Nazareth!
He now goes to him
grenades or...oranges
And he does not know
the mark between the crime
when it becomes rights
and justice
He does not believe anything
He does not disbelieve anything.
He now leaves...and
abandons us
So that we can object sometimes
and accept some other times.
He now leaves a martyr
and leaves us refugees!
And he slept
and he did not seek the tents
and he did not seek the ports
He did not talk
He did not study
He was not a refugee
It was land that was
a refugee in his wounds
and he returned with it.
Do not say: Our father in heavens.
Say: Our brother who took our land
from us
and returned...
He now is being executed
He now lives in Haifa
He knows it, stone by stone
Nothing resembles him
And songs imitate him.
They imitate his green
rendezvous
Let the arms of refugees
be raised now
as winds..as winds.
Let their names spread now
as wounds...as wounds.
Let their bodies explode
as morning...as morning.
Let land discover its address
and we discover land in us"