Rafeef Ziadah’s poetry is a force of nature—unapologetic, powerful, and undeniably authentic. As a Palestinian spoken word artist and human rights advocate based in London, Rafeef delivers a piercing commentary on the realities of her homeland through evocative and often biting verse.
In her work, Rafeef harnesses a striking blend of beauty, rage, and sarcasm to challenge and inspire.
What do your captors know of heart muscles born to the sounds of bombs, born against the state of siege, born to a rhythm louder than all their guns, Born Free” exemplifies her ability to transform the anguish of conflict into a profound declaration of resistance. Each poem is a powerful blend of personal pain and collective endurance, delivered with a voice that refuses to be silenced.
Rafeef Ziadah’s work goes beyond art; it’s a bold call for justice. Her poetry captures both the struggle and the unbreakable spirit of the Palestinian people. For pro-Palestine activists and supporters, Rafeef’s art is a rallying cry and a reminder of resilience in the face of Genocide and Occupation.
Her performances combine powerful spoken word with defiant energy, making her a crucial voice in Palestinian resistance.
Check out Rafeef Ziadah’s website to dive into her powerful poetry. Her work offers a raw and deep look into the Palestinian experience, from life under blockade and the impacts of war to the realities of refugee camps and the Nakba. Rafeef’s poems bring these struggles to light and are a call to fight for justice.
“Yes master, no master !
Thank you for the peanut butter sandwiches
raining down on us from your F16′s master
Yes, my liberators are here to kill my children
and call them ‘collateral damage’ ”
Ziadah’s 2009 words are starkly relevant today, as aid drops in Gaza often end up killing and injuring displaced people as they fall on shelters and 'safe zones.' Gaza has two crossings where aid could be delivered safely if permitted by Israel. According to the World Health Organization, over 700,000 people are at risk of starving to death, with the blockade and restrictions turning crucial aid into a perilous political gamble and a weapon of war.
“Too much sorrow.
Sorrow like charcoal body parts.
Sorrow like childbirth in reverse.
Sorrow like can't identify body parts
and stare at burned flesh.
Looking for eyes. Looking for skin.
Brown olive. Olive brown just like mine.”
Her words cut deep, vividly illustrating Gaza's torment from 2009 to 2024. Her imagery—scorched remains, reversed childbirth—captures the relentless suffering of people buried under rubble. Her poem starkly conveys the pain of searching for lost identities amid ongoing brutality, showing that Gaza's sorrow remains a constant, unchanging reality.
“What do your captors know of heart muscles
Born to the beat of bombs
Born against the state of siege
Born to the rhythm louder than all their guns
Born free”
The Poem starkly illustrates the harshness of administrative detention faced by over 3.660 Palestinians. For Israel, exile to Gaza represents a brutal form of punishment—Israel's use of Gaza as a punitive measure underscores Israel's awareness of the severe and inhumane conditions imposed, revealing the depth of suffering inflicted on those exiled to what many consider "hell on earth" especially during a plausible Genocide where no where is safe.
Listening to Rafeef’s poetry ignites my spirit and helps me cope with
the trauma of being born a refugee in Diaspora. She hits hard with lines like: “Refugee camps are not our home, but you don’t want us here and they don’t want us there, and there is occupied by them. Don’t send us anywhere but back to Palestine if you dare.” Her words cut through the injustice and anger of being displaced and unwanted. Her poetry speaks to us scattered, homeless.
The reality we face since 75 Years, driven by colonial powers imported to our land from the US and Europe.