Watching The Waves
A grief poem for South Lebanon
Between me and my words lives an ocean of grief. Each time I try to cross I choke on seawater; every wave a soul, a tree, a street, a village, a dream, a life, a breath, a face, a tombstone, a son, a daughter, a mother, a father, a fighter, a farmer, a bird, a harvest, a church, a mosque, a souk, a house, a square, a prayer, a medic, a grandfather, a grandmother, a heavy chest, a severed limb, a scream under the rubble, a finger on a trigger, an eye on the horizon— and if I start to speak I will run out of ears before I run out of names. And so I sit, and watch the tides alone, praying the moon doesn't rise tomorrow.
There is currently over a million forcibly displaced person in Lebanon.
The Ziønist entity has destroyed over 50 historical villages, making their return home nearly impossible. The entity has also been violating the ceasefire daily, killing civilians, paramedics, and destroying civillian and agricultural infrastructure.
Consider donating here to help us support displaced families, so they can continue living in dignity during these very difficult times. And don’t forget to talk about Lebanon amidst this shameful Western media blackout and political inaction, as many Lebanese are too grief-stricken and exhausted to do it.
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