I Planted a Tree on Stolen Land
I planted a tree on stolen land
I wish I had known but I didn't
A strange contradiction
The dispossession of a whole people
And perpetuated the lie that this was a
Land without people for a people without land
Like the Terra Nullius doctrine that justified
Genocide against Indigenous people
On Turtle Island.
A lie that has for almost a century justified
Genocide against Palestinian people
And erased the Nakba and attempted mass dispossession of Palestinian lands
Whose brutal “end game” appears to be
Playing out in Gaza
My Yiddish heritage sits heavily on my conscience
My ancestors uprooted from their homes in Eastern European pogroms
My grandparents and mother’s generation living in a land, Canada,
Where "No Dogs or Jews” signs abounded
Where their Yiddish summer camp was
Spied upon by the RCMP
And my mother had to change her name to get work.
And where I was beaten after school
As a dirty you-know-what
Invited to birthday parties
Only to be turned away at the door
As the stupid “rhymes with bike"
Subjected to a lynch mob when anti-Semitic
Neighbours accused me of killing a cat for its blood
And so they came for mine
I was nine.
For decades we were sold a pack of lies
Unthinkingly participated in feel-good ethnic cleansing
As we lost loved ones
Trees were planted by the Jewish National Fund (JNF)
In the names of our loved ones on stolen Palestinian lands.
In 1948 the JNF took control of most land
Stolen from Palestinians
And developed a policy to lease land
Only to Jews on an openly discriminatory basis.
And so a tree grows on stolen land.
Should it be uprooted as a measure of justice
Or would that be a form of vengeance?
Palestinian olive trees have been uprooted by the regime
By the thousands
But it feels wrong to uproot this tree.
Instead I wish for this tree to subvert
And undermine the system of injustice that led to its planting.
May it and its fellow trees,
For there are many,
Pollinate nonviolent resistance to the
Violence of an apartheid state.
Unleash on the generals and the bombers and ground soldiers a fever
That prevents them from dropping bombs or
Reporting to missile-launching platforms
A fever that prevents planes from taking off
And warships from sailing the seas
And guns from shooting
And hate from being spread
A fever that breaks down the prison walls
And frees all the hostages everywhere
A fever of conscience and love and
Refusal to participate in the crimes of today
And those planned for tomorrow
A fever that brings people
To join hands
And cry out
"Nit mer genotsid in meyn nomen!"
No more genocide in my name.
(My heart breaks for all suffering right now in Palestine and Israel. Both peoples have suffered unspeakable grief and suffering during the explosion of violence this past week. May we add our voices to those, especially inside Israel and Palestine, calling for a ceasefire, for humanitarian aid corridors in Gaza, and for supports for all those who have been traumatized. And may we recognize our common humanity and, in doing so, undo the structures of oppression that have led us to here)
