Essay by mezabinHigh School, 11th grade February 2009

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I stared into the eyes of my enemy, dumbfounded by the pain and misery they have caused us. Their facial expressions are as cold as steel. They have no accountability for the sins they have committed. They have separated families. Orphans roam the street in feeble hope of justice. Mothers walk with pained eyes, thinking of the children they have lost to bullets and slaying. They moan and express whimpers and hurt cries, but still manage to show tender love and care to others who have lost their loved ones.

I don’t only feel, but also see and hear the screams of my brothers and sisters. The air tastes of blood and smells of gas, forcing me not only to remember, but to feel the grief that my people are going through. I try to curb my raging temper but that seem nearly impossible. I am frustrated and I want to hit out and stop evil actions of these heartless soldiers.

I remind myself that I am a courageous Palestinian fighter, fighting for justice, for freedom, fighting for Al-Aqsa. Our slingshots instill fear and they are afraid of our conviction. We are fighting to protect our land, not kill innocent people, yet they call us terrorists. This was something I never understood, until I came face to face with them when I was 9 years old. Then I understood that it is they who are the terrorists, not us. They are killing our people, breaking our bones, destroying our homes, taking our land by force, and they dare call us the “TERRORISTS”?This frustration and the pledge to Masjid -ul-Aqsa (Holy mosque) is what helps us to stand steadfast and strong, although there are many times when we just want to give up: especially when we are stopped and harassed...