I do not know how to write about the horror
the words surge and explode inside my mind
they lose potency on the page
the hundred years’ war on Palestine
escalated to genocide, ecocide
land theft and body slaughter
funded by taxes extracted from my labor
from generations of labor before me
my mind says rant
my heart says rage
and grieve
sing and pray
also love
also resist
my body says breathe
and love
also
resist, resist, resist

I want to dispel the lies
to decry what I see
what I hear, what I know
how does one create poetry out of atrocity and desecration?
how does one speak to another too afraid to listen?
to those numb and distracted?
to those indoctrinated in hate?
my words are not enough

do you hear poetry in the pepper plants growing in the cracks of toxic bomb rubble?
…in the exiled poet writing his pain into poems of love for his people and homeland
as he loses more and more with every sunset?
…in the children continuing to play and dance even though tomorrow they may lose
limbs, siblings, families, friends, life?
…in the thousands of peaceful dissenters or the self-emulators?
…in the hundreds of thousands of flowers and candles and pages of names
for the hundreds of thousands of dead martyrs overflowing our altars?

this genocide evokes all genocides
all occupations
untended grief forming vast oceans of unshed tears
igniting fire in our blood
fire in the mouths of our dragon-hearts
902 entire Palestinian family lines dis-membered in this past year alone
and what of the olive trees, the wheat fields, the poppies, the animals, the birds?
what of the storms and climate chaos to come–
from unprecedented CO2 emissions released in bombs?

the darkest depravity has dragged us into a bottomless realm
where every compass has been shattered
it is time to burn the maps and the flags
time to burn the imperial lies and threats
that plague our communities like an ancient virus
separating us from our shared life-source
lies like, indigenous people resisting occupation are terrorists
lies like, this is self-defense
lies like, your freedom depends on this
threats like, eat these lies for dinner and obey
threats like, be grateful the government has not locked me up or
shot me in my sleep (yet)
for daring to string history and truth together
be grateful I have evaded police beatings or tasing or gassing or torture or rape (so far)
for daring to listen to my ancestors
for marching in the streets for justice and peace
for gathering in circles of solidarity to sing songs of liberation
for imagining and dreaming a post-colonial world
one of rematriation and restoration

U.S. politicians bathe in blood and deal weapons by the billions
while hailing gods of austerity and starvation
candidates with bones stuck in their teeth and ghosts in their eyes
spew manufactured narratives of manipulation
self-identified liberals take up fascism in a panic
fawning in the face of domination
donning old hoods and cloaks stored in the closet
wed to a status quo of monstrosity, devoid of compassion and empathy
the neighbors fly flags of colonization and Zionism
I stop answering the door when they knock
I encircle my home, my loves, in spells of protection
I am sick for days, for months
my head aches and my stomach churns
steeped in disgust and agony
I cry and I cry and I cry
my sleep interrupted by nightmares
of fleeing an abusive man
of no safe place to run to
of birthing a blue baby too weak to suckle
of having no breast-milk
of fearing a premature death
of not being able to pay rent
of fearing houselessness
of leaving my body and not being able to return
of leaving my body and not being able to return
of leaving my body
and not being able to return

*if you are viewing this on a smartphone, line breaks may not be accurate and this will impact your reading experience as well as the conveyance of meaning*