Palestine does not ask for the impossible — it only demands what it rightfully deserves. It deserves for its soil to be nourished with dew, not stained with blood; to wake to the sounds of nature, not the shriek of warplanes. Palestine — that story which began before entire civilizations were born — has yet to write its final chapter, and continues to resist, despite the crushing conditions that seek to break the Palestinian spirit.
Palestine deserves life, not to negotiate for its existence. It deserves a childhood filled with play, not displacement; education that is a right, not a distant dream. In its neighborhoods, joy should echo in wedding songs — not the wails of rescue sirens. Its soil should grow wheat, not shrapnel. Its homes should be lit with celebration, not engulfed in fire.
In Gaza, the sky is no longer blue. It rains ash on the rooftops, and the air is choked with dust. Families are wiped out without a flicker of mercy, and children are buried with their parents. And the world, in all its paralyzed might, watches this genocide unfold — as if nothing is happening.
Palestine deserves for its flag to fly high above its eternal capital, Al-Quds, not as a fleeting symbol in a moment of solidarity, but as a sovereign truth — grounded in history and law, unshakable by time. Al-Quds must be a city open to its people and to the free of the world, a place where religious rituals are practiced without restriction, where one can walk its Old City streets without military checkpoints or permits, without submitting to the occupation’s will. It deserves to be a city of life, not a military barracks — where Al-Aqsa Mosque and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre are symbols of spiritual freedom, not scenes of systematic raids and repression.
The West Bank, too, deserves to be free from the cancer of settlement and settlers. The military checkpoints, invasive inspections, and draconian restrictions that have shredded its geography and suffocated its people must be removed. The West Bank deserves to be whole again — without walls or bypass roads — where movement is a natural right, not a daily ordeal. It deserves to become a beacon of knowledge, technology, economy, and creativity, where the energy of its youth is invested in construction and progress, not wasted in endless waiting or survival under occupation.
Palestine deserves freedom — not in the form of statements, but written on the faces of prisoners, in the wills of martyrs, in the fists of children holding stones. It deserves to open its borders on its own terms, to walk its streets without walls or rifles cutting through them.
Freedom is not a privilege — it is a birthright, as natural as dew on olive branches.
Palestine deserves return, not another blueprint for exile. From the tents of Rafah to the refugee camps scattered across the world, mothers pass down the keys to their stolen homes like sacred relics of remembrance. Beneath the fabric of tents, generations are born into an unfinished story — nursed on longing and raised on names of towns they have never seen: Haifa, Jaffa, the Negev, Acre — and every occupied Palestinian city.
The land must be returned to its rightful people. The sea to its fishermen. The mosques to their minarets. The churches to their bells. Refugees must return not to a waiting list, but to their doorsteps. The tents must be folded, the checkpoints forgotten, the chains broken.
Palestine deserves victory, because defeat has never been her option. Victory is not measured by the number of UN sessions, but by the times she has risen from under the rubble, by the hearts that kept beating despite repeated death. Victory comes from resilience, not armies — from faith, not political deals.
Palestine deserves the freedom of its prisoners — those who turned prison cells into pulpits of dignity, and darkness into schools of endurance. Their spirits do not wither behind bars — they blossom every time we call their names. We carry them with us daily, for they are the guardians of meaning and the salt of the earth.
Genocide, displacement, siege, hunger, walls, and silence — none of these have broken Palestine. So how could she not deserve? How could she not deserve to live — free, tall as thyme, stubborn as cactus, radiant as the call to prayer from Al-Aqsa?
“Palestine Deserves” is not a slogan we write and forget — it is a vow etched into our hearts. We proclaim it before the world:
Palestine will not be forgotten, diminished, or erased.
Palestine deserves — because justice cannot be delayed, and dignity is not negotiable.
