I am an Olive Tree

You didn’t think just because I was home my blogs would stop did you? Since I don’t have’ updates’ while I’m in the States, I thought I would use this time to share some of my creative writing. I sometimes come up with fictional stories or poetry to help me process the situations I see. For example I was passing an illegal Israeli outpost in the ‘Firing Zone’ and thought about how the first thing settlers do is plant a forest of pine trees, to help hide their illegal buildings. Contrasting that with the Palestinian’s olive trees which are thousands of years old I came up with this story.

I am an Olive Tree

I am an olive tree.
I was once young and frail.
The sun beating down on me nearly burned me to a crisp.
The wind twisted me back and forth.
The ground hardly gave water enough to live.
But my roots were strong and I grew.

I saw people come and go.
I saw the joyous life they could live.
They climbed my branches for fun.
Then they climbed to collect my olives.
Then they climbed to cultivate my branches.
But my roots were strong and I grew.

I saw wars come and go too.
I saw the devastation people can leave.
They fought with sticks, hitting me as practice.
Then arrows whizzed through my branches.
Then bullets scarred my bark.
But my roots were strong and I grew.

I grew old.
My trunk twisted and warped by the wind.
My branches chaotic to catch the sun.
My bark scrapped and cracked by the years of life within it.
But my roots were strong and I grew.

Then one day a pine was planted next to the me.
The pines roots went deeper than mine.
They took the water I needed to grow.
Without water my branches became brittle.
But my roots were strong, and I grew.

But the pine grew stronger.
Its branches grew higher than mine.
It walled me from the sun.
Without the light my leaves shriveled.
But my roots were strong, and I grew.

But the pine grew stronger.
Its needles were so numerous they littered the ground.
Their acid seeped into me.
My olives became bitter and useless.
But my roots were strong, and I grew.

I remember when my olives had flavor.
When my roots could find water.
When my leaves could find light.
When my branches could hold children.
I hope for those days again.
Until then my roots remain strong, and I grow.

PS: On a side note, during my time in the states I am will have about 10 speaking engagements, if you live in any of the areas I’m speaking I hope I can see you there. For my schedule click here.

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