Red Line

I have a red line.

It’s drawn in blood through the sands of Palestine;
intersecting groves of olive trees that the
Zionists uprooted; crossing mass graves of
murdered children, women, men; wrapped around the
missing limbs torn from babies; fed with grief from
widows, orphans, amputees; meandering
among rubble of bombed buildings including
houses, apartments, schools, libraries, churches,
mosques, synagogues, shops, restaurants, hospitals;
weaving through the sabotaged infrastructure.

A line I will not cross.

Those who do not stand in opposition to
genocide, speak out against ethnic cleansing;
stigmatize savage slaughter and massacres;
vilify attempts to expand Israel’s map;
condemn the climate cost of ceaseless shelling.
If they’re complicit in any way, support
Zionists, own stocks in companies that build
bombs, missiles, drones, tanks, fighter jets; if they vote
for sending more weapons to Israel, equate
an anti-Zionist with someone who is
anti-Semitic, or vindicate war crimes…

They have crossed that red line.

I will no longer buy their products or pay
for their services. I’ll never vote for them
again or donate to their campaigns. I stopped
reading their words, listening to their music,
watching their movies and programs, subscribing
to their newsletters and magazines, playing
their games, supporting their projects, fundraisers.

They are quislings, collaborators.

I have a red line.