The Palestinian captive movement in its day

from under the arches of blood; From Jenin and Nablus to Jerusalem and Gaza, and throughout the homeland, and under the sky of the holy month, and on the day of the captive movement, which made freedom free, which is one of the names of Palestine, the day of the captive movement shines from the country’s sun and mountains, the face of the ears, the wheat of the prairies and the mud of the fields. The prison sculpted her stature, and songs of hope and the impossible came, after her soul sent a placenta that pregnant women dried on the rock of the valley, and after she spread it on the ropes of the night in the lonely cells.

This movement weaned her grief before crying, and turned it into fists that pounded the night, and she remained with the village circle surrounded by calls, despite the siege, their violence and abuse.

The tender veins of Heaven and Hell were not removed from the garment of their story, and the gold of their veins was the ringing of the bells of vigilance and prayer.

It is a sword of flesh, and a storm lurking in the steps of ascending to the cloud, and it distributes lightning over the fields.

The captive, purifying, unified movement, which sprinkled the dust of the squares with cherries, is the spark of the fire that it lit from its boxes, and the embers besieging it with starvation, restrictions, isolation, terrorism, threats, and gas that liquefies shame. And the wind is the fragrance of her dark shirts, tanned with the blood of clashes.

If it screams, the forests rise behind it, to be a witness to the spring and the coming weddings, to the will of the free despite the walls, and to the march of the returnees to their first land, from the camps, the fuel of the revolution and the witness of proof of the inalienable right.

Perhaps the captive movement was the first to transcend the categories of suspicious division, the vocabulary of self-searching, and all that the delusional people suggested for disagreement and disagreement. She is returning from confrontation to the castle.. all the way to salvation and breaking down the heavy doors filled with mad bullets and dogs.

Far from fissures, factional color, and conflict of flags, Palestine is the vocabulary of the captive movement, which clings like a raging fire to its conscience, or like a winter daffodil in its heart.

The captive movement is our mountain, which extends from Carmel to Eibal and Al-Asur to Hebron, the Negev and Rafah. These are the names of the fedayeen whose bright steps we traced when they came from the refugee camps.

It faced severe strategic injustice, so it provided martyrs and weeks of hunger and thirst as salt for the wounds of the sun, and broke the brutal darkness and the surrounding woe, and remained under the lamp of its national umbrella, which sponsored all diligence and the diversity of intellectual and political visions, with elegance, sanctity and poise.

And soon we will see the eagles of prisoners breeding in bags and eras, models that participated, in their years of life, in liberating the country and the people, but they need continuous care and to strengthen the deep meaning of unity, and to propose all possible forms to support campaigns for their release, and work to preserve their achievements, to see the prisoners included in The stairs of the coming free time, because they fought on a non-oppressive front, starting with the front of occupation and ending with the front of survival, resistance, resistance to alienation, eradication of awareness and humiliation.

She is pure, healthy, and sincere, who has not been cursed by seductive politics, and has not been embraced by ghosts in her black cloaks shrouded in the abyss of obscurity.

It is an unusual phenomenon to the extent of a renewed legend.

Perhaps this day, the day of the prisoner, is obsessed with creating a more coherent front to support these brave men, women and children, until the pomegranate lights up, the day of their freedom weddings, and they sleep on a pillow of contentment and completeness, so that they dream of wedding, meeting and innocence.

The captive movement has not changed, to the extent that politics and variables forced it on compulsory paths, or led it to paths that need responsible revisions, but we still derive from it the morale and the vocabulary of unified, serious work for God and the country. She is the one who strokes the tired strands, and she is the exhausted and dead one, and remains surrounding them with the shadows of returning to the first womb of hope, longing for the first image that will soon be realized.

They threw poison in its well and its water, so it referred it to Zamzam and Salsabil.

And she is the confident one who is acquitted of hatred.

The occupation was not only unable to kill her or empty her.. but with her blood and tears she lit up the scene in all its aspects, and "victory is the ally of the civilized."

I paused in front of pleasant, harsh, and quick memories with her, and cleared our days within her difficult biography, so I realized that she had white pages in the book of her good Palestinian family.

We bow to the captive movement because it is the mother of freedom, and because it is the daughter of honor, the queen of its honorable brothers, and the fortress that no one conquered.

And I do not say to the prisoners except that you are greater than death.

And I say thank you because you were and still are among us, and thank you for this land on which we stand, or sit with you on its rugs.
And congratulations to you, glory until salvation, O names of the returning countries.