what if you were a flower
and your roots were lodged
on that part of earth that
separates Israel from Palestine?

would you give your scent to Israel
your beauty to Palestine
or withhold both?

what if you were a bee
and at some point in your buzzing about
you stopped to draw nectar
from the flower rooted on the edge
of the green line that separates Israel from Palestine?

would you make your nest
in Tel Aviv maybe Bethlehem, or on no strip at all?

what if you were a honey farmer
and you made a living selling
honey that you got from the hive
in which lived the bee
that got its nectar from the flower
that struggled for six days to sprout
and take root along the frame of the wall
that separates Israel from Palestine?

would you sell its texture to Israel
its sweetness to Palestine,
or forfeit the sale?

what if you were a tongue
and on you rolled the taste of the honey
you bought from the farmer
who got it from the hive, in which lived the bee
that got its nectar from the flower (watered by blood)
and rooted on that part of earth
that separates fear from hope?

would you savour its sweetness
spew out its bitterness, or plain ignore the taste in between?

what if…

* Lindiwe Nkutha is a poet, storyteller and film maker based in South Africa