Soon I will find my way back.
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A new terrain
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I struggle to let words slip through my closed mouth, closed by the enormity of what is happening in America today, the Trump horror, arms waving, fingers pointing, hate and ignorance applauded. My mouth is closed by the silence allowing Israel's continuing cutting down of Palestinian life, the pretend bafflement at where the rage comes from, as bullets fly into the bodies of young Palestinian women with scissors in their hands, proclaiming as their blood seeps away, "I can no longer bare what I see every day, what I cannot see every day, like a future of possibilities. Terrorism, poor Israel, Bibi says into the cameras, while the soldiers murder at will and more and more Palestinian children are taken out of circulation by being swept into prisons, their names, their lives, unknown to us. No one dares to say that Israel's occupation is an open sore that bleeds into the international attacks, that pours into every bullet, that shatters every place of possible hope. I will say this, this Jew I am will say, that as long as Israel is not held to account for its brutal daily murders of Palestinian body and soul, we will live in increasingly armored fear. The Trumps will carry the night.
You see, I live in a sun filled island country now, where my darling climbs into the trees wearing her old American bowling shirt, found when we walked the streets of New York together, more then a decade ago now. The sun for some, the shadows of endless walls for others. such things close the mouth until it opens with an endless shout of No.
