House of Nakba
Her eyes were tired, like her soul was tired. Her look was drained. Her house was no longer. She has been through horrific hardship. The house that once stood there, on the hill, had been demolished… for the second time.
The door still stood upright amid the broken cement walls. The door had a window, perhaps a window of hope.
Taking someone’s land is like taking someone’s life. Destroying someone’s house is like destroying their soul.
The family stands on the rubble. Mother, father, and son. Their struggle is long and difficult. An eternal struggle it seems.
The father looks at me and says, “Everywhere this is the same, the same story, the same same.
Go to Jenin, same same. Go to Lebanon, same same. Go to Gaza, same same. Same same. It’s not so different.”
But there is hope, right? Perhaps to rebuild the house for the third time? But, will the bulldozers come a third time? Will the house stand, remain?
The rebar, twisted and bent, lay scattered around the broken house. But the window in the door stood out, perhaps as hope for the future. A window of hope? A door to a better future? It stood there, alone.
“We want to live in peace with our neighbors. We don’t hate the Israelis, the Israelis are good people. But look at what the powers are doing.
What can we do?”
The door still stood upright amid the broken cement walls. The door had a window, perhaps a window of hope.
Taking someone’s land is like taking someone’s life. Destroying someone’s house is like destroying their soul.
The family stands on the rubble. Mother, father, and son. Their struggle is long and difficult. An eternal struggle it seems.
The father looks at me and says, “Everywhere this is the same, the same story, the same same.
Go to Jenin, same same. Go to Lebanon, same same. Go to Gaza, same same. Same same. It’s not so different.”
But there is hope, right? Perhaps to rebuild the house for the third time? But, will the bulldozers come a third time? Will the house stand, remain?
The rebar, twisted and bent, lay scattered around the broken house. But the window in the door stood out, perhaps as hope for the future. A window of hope? A door to a better future? It stood there, alone.
“We want to live in peace with our neighbors. We don’t hate the Israelis, the Israelis are good people. But look at what the powers are doing.
What can we do?”
3 comments:
whoa
Beautiful words and such difficult imagery. Thank you.
Such artistic expressions of experience capture a certain and very real element of emotion and tragedy. I feel though that it also leaves us on occasion with an abstract and deeply dramatic understanding of the experience. For me, and I would expect for a number of others as well, it often leaves me feeling wrongfully proud of the writer, though, and too uninformed of the issues and situations being documented.
It would be wonderful if you could include as well some documentary style words on occasion and not just the epic (albeit beautiful) narration. Just a thought, considering the way I tend to emotionally respond to such serious and human issues as these, as well as Christs words on the selflessness and truthfulness of delivering the message while observing the humble, sacrificial transparency of the messenger.
I just want to be sure that my/our (the readers from afar) focus is solidly in the right place...and also just to know more about what you guys/girl are experiencing over there! We love you...God bless you all!
Yeshu, your request is coming soon...
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