Standing My Ground

I never learn.

I try to run away from the blood and gore every time. I run, run, run as fast as my feet can take me, as far as I can make it from the epicentre of the earthquake that threatens to dismantle my illusion of happiness, of safety, of peace. Away from the nucleus, so I can be a valence electron and break away from the despair that pulls me inward.

But as much as I close my eyes - however hard, however long - I can never see the whites of my eyelids. It is always stained red. A red that refuses point-blank to be washed off, to be bleached.

As much as I run, the aftershocks always topple my rosy bubble.

And as much as I try to break away, I end up in another atom with yet another nucleus of power, of propaganda and poisonous hate.

“Here I am
Deceived into silence.

A silence that corrupts
Corrodes
Corrals me into guilt

And now I learn:
Silence is only golden
Not gold.”

So, from the depths of the place where all things rusty get cast off, I reclaim my voice. Because light doesn’t come from ignoring darkness, but from acknowledging it.

My voice maybe scratched-up and bent now, but it can still make a sound. And it will.

In solidarity with justice. With peace. With Gaza.