The grain of sand.
The ceasefire that is not a ceasefire in Gaza is on and the killing and segregation in the West Bank has accelerated. 90 Palestinian hostages were released in exchange for 3 Israelis – if that doesn’t make people question who was holding the most hostages, I have no idea what will. At the same time, at least 67 people (that we know about) were taken hostage in the West Bank. Trump has removed US sanctions on Israeli settlers in the West Bank which is like unleashing the gates of hell.
Sometimes it is hard not to feel despair. I was lying in bed last night questioning whether I make a difference. If my poetry or Conversations with Oday even matter. And I realised that even if it only makes a difference to Oday and his family that is enough. And in 50 years, when my grandkids go home after studying the Palestinian Genocide in school, and ask their parents, “Why didn’t Nanna do something”, my kids will be able to say to their kids she tried.
It is not my place to feel despair. I carry two baskets. One is filled with endless beauty, hope, joy, and inspiration and the other is filled with a bottomless grief. I have one so I can keep holding on to the other and for that, I am eternally grateful. I feel joy every day which allows me to cry. If I stopped doing either I would worry.
What can one person do asked 8 billion people? What can one person do?
They can do a lot; they just have to care enough to try.
The grain of sand
does not ask
how it may
change the shore,
the slightest breath,
becomes the wind
and blows forevermore,
the piccolo
does not question
it’s part in the symphony,
and the ripple on the surface
does not say
I cannot change the sea.
The rivulet never
doubts that it can
change the boulder’s core
and the whisper
has always known
it can become
a fearsome roar.
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