December 20, 2023
6:56 AM

I haven’t cried in two weeks.

Social media and emotional experts say it is because I have become
desensitized.

But that is a luxury exclusively reserved for white people who have

Not seen wars and torn limbs

Not inhaled the stench of burned and
rotting flesh

Not been deafened by fighter jets of
death eating up the skies above them.

I think my body is just dried out.

Or maybe it is my body’s way of allowing me to come up for a breath,

To shower

To eat a full meal

To play with Petra and hold her in
my arms, just her

And not the thousands of lifeless
little bodies that haunt my days and my dreams alike, before

I drown again.

Today
My tears arrived.

Burning and familiar.

My only connection to my mother and sisters,
The only unburned bridge to the torched lands I call home.

Their absence created a schism within me
A crater so deep and all-consuming
Like a black hole bent on devouring any and every thing in its’ path.

That ferocious and insatiable appetite for all things death and destruction I
know all too well.

I welcomed them
Like I’ve welcomed my father at Pearson Airport time and again in my dreams.

I embraced them.

I refused to wipe them away.

But of course, I was hiding in the bathroom
Away from Petra’s questioning eyes.

A few days ago she asked:
‘Mama, you haven’t cried in a while, does that mean ‘Palestime’ is okay now?
Did all the stupid people hurting her go away?’

No, my love, the stupid people hurting her have not gone away.

The whole stupid world has not gone away.