Please, someone tell me I’m there.
Crouching in a makeshift tent, kissed by the morning sun. Melancholic of all the missed moments to come. He daydreams of another predicament. When he was naive, he longed for the facade of freedom. Unlike his freedom, his dream evolved throughout his lifetime. ‘Free-doom’ took on a new meaning. Now, forgoing his own unrealised dreams, his pained spirit yearns for something much simpler, yet so seemingly complex for the rest of the world. The trembling bones that attempt to support his body ache for a proper ceasefire, so he can finally go home and dig through the wreckage in the hopes of finding his wife. He must put her to rest.
Without vigour or dazzle, the autumn sun casts upon the sloping edges of his tent, assembled by the roadside. Missiles have destroyed the pavement’s past; an entire memory of Palestinian footprints erased. A haunting breeze scatters debris from the rubble onto the tops of his bare feet. In his mind, he still recalls the explosions, claiming discarded and premature dreams. A dust of desperation sprinkles itself on top of limbs and missing voices. Land of the free. Why does it deserve to materialise only for a select few?
His name won’t be ushered within the international arena, his number will; a line on a tally chart gathering too much momentum, part of another infographic shared on social media by those who dare to speak.
Holding out his hands, he raises them up in front of his eyes. Turning the palms up to face the sharp blue skies, he slowly examines his wrists, fingertips, nails, looking for clues to indicate a reason for the injustice inflicted on his people. Will he find it in the colour of his skin, or in the threatening look of defiance in his eyes? Perhaps the explanation does not lie in his appearance but in the veins of the fertile land that stream beneath him in the ground, in his land that may not belong to him.
His dear ones have perished. He has no home to seek refuge. Even his memories are stolen. He weeps. He is not alone. He is joined by so many others. The company, a guilty comfort.
