This poem is about Jerusalem and the way the events occurring there could relate to my personal life or my loved ones’ over the last ten years and the way Arabs react to all the news
I remember hearing about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict for the first time. I remember being completely shocked, thinking “aren’t those children who died my age?”
I was eight.
I remember having a Palestinian best friend. We met at a country none of us call ours, and for her, I’m not sure if she ever had one to call hers. She told me that her grandma was still in Palestine, as she refused to leave her country after all. I remember wondering how a life would be when one’s surrounded by the wreckage of homes and people.
I remember feeling sorry for her and praying for her, but my friend had so much faith in meeting her grandmother again, even though she knew she might not. I felt embarrassed about my thoughts. So I suppressed my feelings.
I was ten.
I remember understanding more of the subject eventually, how Jews claim it’s their land by their holy book. But I couldn’t wrap my mind around how is their killing considered holy? Or even justified? How could they do such thing by the name of God?
I was thirteen.
I watch the news every day. And every day they mention the number of martyrs, the total of dead human beings in Palestine. Every single day.
I think about my old friend.
I think about her grandmother.
I think about their neighbors, relatives, friends.
I think about all human beings who are living under threat and fear.
Wait, another bombing. Another killing.
Why aren’t we doing anything about it?
I was sixteen.
I saw a movie yesterday.
It had several locations, and one of them was Jerusalem, Israel.
Yes, they had the audacity to do it. Palestine is no longer in their dictionary.
Something hurts. So I suppress my feelings again, because what else could I do?
I was seventeen.
I’m almost nineteen now.
I’m filled with rage and anger. My mind is racing with thoughts.
Jerusalem is not the capital of Israel. Israel is a failed state. Israel doesn’t exist.
It can’t be. It shouldn’t be.
Who let that happen?
We did. Everyone did. We just stood there and did nothing. Acted like we were blindfolded.
How much power do we have anyway?
So, I suppress my feelings once more.
I can’t do anything but write about it either.
Always in our hearts.