Roots beneath the wall

The olive roots grab tight beneath the sand
To keep the memory of stolen land
The branches twist but never truly break
No matter how the iron quivers shake,
 
The rust upon the key is turning treasure
A story of comeback that must be told
The walls may scatter into piles of dust
But the soil witnessed our sacred faith
 
A simple stone feels heavy in the palm
To splinter the surface of deadly calm
The kite belongs to those who dare to fly
No matter how they hedge the open sky,