Phalapoem editor, 15/11/25
*[Scene: A grey, bombed-out landscape. Rubble and silence. Handala stands with his back turned, barefoot as always, facing the ruins of Gaza. Piers Morgan appears, looking weary, holding a microphone that no longer broadcasts lies but trembles with truth.]
Piers Morgan:
You’re… Handala, aren’t you? The boy from Naji al-Ali’s drawings. The symbol of resistance.
Handala (without turning):
You needed fifteen months of genocide to recognize me, Mr. Morgan. I have been standing here since 1948. The question is — where have you been?
Piers:
I was… reporting. Asking questions. Seeking balance.
Handala:
Balance? Between the boot and the neck? Between the bomb and the body? You called it “proportional.”
Piers (defensive):
I believed Israel had the right to defend itself.
Handala:
And the children buried beneath these stones — did they not have that right too? You said their deaths were collateral. Tell me, Mr. Morgan — when the truth bleeds, do your ratings rise or your conscience?
Piers (pauses):
I admit I was wrong. I see now what Israel is doing — the starvation, the destruction, the… genocide and apartheid.
Handala:
Genocide does not begin when you name it. It begins when you look away. When you interrupt the truth and give comfort to lies.
Piers:
You’re right. But it’s never too late to be on the right side of history.
Handala:
History doesn’t need spectators who arrive after the funeral. It needs witnesses who refuse to be silent at the first scream.
Piers:
Then what should I do now? Speak louder? Condemn more clearly?
Handala (turns slightly, for the first time — his face unseen):
Don’t speak louder. Speak truer. The world has enough noise. What it lacks is courage.
Piers (softly):
Do you forgive me?
Handala:
Forgiveness is not mine to give. It belongs to those you refused to hear when they were alive.
Piers (looks down):
And if I stand with them now?
Handala:
Then you must never again confuse neutrality with morality. Remember: silence feeds the illegal and criminal occupier. Doubt feeds denial.
Piers:
You think I can change minds?
Handala:
You changed yours, didn’t you? That’s a start. Just remember — truth delayed is truth denied.
(Handala begins to walk toward the horizon, still facing away. The rubble glows faintly in dawn light.)
Piers (calling out):
Where are you going?
Handala:
To where every child of Gaza goes — toward the sunrise that the world still owes us.