Photo courtesy of Foreign Policy
Where do these words come from?
From the bleeding River Jordan.
From the Gaza sea bobbing with
bodies and food packages. From
the mosque in Rafah in the gunsights
of a tank. From Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital
where limbs are amputated to save
broken lives. From Nuseirat,
Deir-al-Balah, Gaza City. Name
your deconstruction site. Name
your university dismantled:
Al-Quds Open, Gaza, Al-Aqsa, Al-Azhar.
Name your hospital. Everyone has been
bombed except for Al Aqsar Martyrs
which becomes the healing center
of this trans-body experience. Today
I seek to write your suffering.
I pitch my tent on the campus lawn.
I research how to divest from
companies selling shells raining
on you. I join your cry: We will
not be moved, although bombs
and leaflets are close by. They
approach. The end they promise
will come. But olive trees are people
and they resist. roots deep
in the earth. They live on buried
water and food. The time of locusts
will pass. This I see and hear
in my dream. I eat olives.
I drink water from the water truck.
I scramble with friends uphill
running from tear gas and bullets.
I send you doves. I send you
these words from where words come.
Watch Where Olive Trees Weep here: https://checkout.thewisdomoftrauma.com/api/v1/statistics/fulfill/567bed3eede4338bebdd30bc2e100316aad67af1cc99/54/product?meta_http_redirect=url