Originally, I planned to write this week about springtime, but found myself thinking about the last equinox we transitioned through. In October, I was stuck on an image from my social media feed: a woman and her friend picking fruit from a tree in Gaza. They didn’t know if it would be the last fruit they tasted, didn’t know how long they had to live. I don’t know what happened to them. I lost track in the storm of social media and shadow bans. How is it possible it has been six months, and the horrors are still mounting?
I tried to write about the image at the time but it felt like reaching for fruit only to find it rotting. What is the responsibility of the poet in times of darkness?
says that it is to tell the truth. They also say it’s our duty to write towards the light, and to imagine a better world. As right as they are, it has felt impossible to do here. There is no metaphor for the complete annihilation of personhood and life happening in Gaza. The poem I would write is three words on repeat, a plea instead of a poem: Life is holy. Life is holy. Life is holy. Life is holy. Life is….When I have attempted to find more words, I’ve found myself blocking the light with the shadow of “I”, or the vantage point that I bring to the table. As an American, my tax dollars are funding the bombs. Poetry cannot avoid a truth like that, and yet my guilt casts a shadow that only obscures. It does not serve anyone.
What I have found is that in order to write towards the light, I have to be actively moving towards it. I also know that I cannot do that alone. I must be grounded in the self as part of the collective. I only know I am moving in the right direction when my arms are looped through other arms, when my voice is but a small part of a hoarse chorus demanding justice.
For me, that means I have to text my sister about how we are grappling with the power our vote holds. I need to read and share the work of poets who have been killed in Gaza, of poets who call Palestine their homeland, and of poets who paint a vision for a better world for all. I need to seek out community actions and learning. My calls to elected officials for a ceasefire feel futile. Ours, together, have the power to be enough. My words will fall short. Ours can pull back the curtain on ugly truths and point us towards a brighter future. We can choose to believe that together, we can carry us out of the dark.
Practices:
Contact your government officials - local, state and national - and continue to demand a permanent and immediate ceasefire. If you are living in the U.S. or are a U.S. citizen, here’s a tool to help.
Support this indigenous, queer-owned coffee shop that is being targeted for their support of Palestine, or be intentional about supporting a local business in your own area who is active in their support.
Prompts:
Many people have been fixing headlines that fail to truthfully describe what is happening in Gaza. To take this a step further, write a blackout poem from an article that is skewing the brutal reality. Turn it into a poem that tells the truth.
Make a blackout poem from the response you receive from an elected official when you call to demand a ceasefire.
This week, I invite you to share in the comments about the work of poets connected to Palestine, or other actions that I did not mention here. I also would love to see your blackout poems if you make them - if you’re not able to post them in the comments, please share them on social media.
Community Citations:
Read this moving essay from Palestinian-American poet Hala Alyan, and this harrowing account from poet Mosab Abu Toha of his perilous journey as he fled Gaza with his family.
Hala Alyan (whose essay is linked above) just released her fifth poetry book The Moon That Turns You Back this month. I am ordering it, you can do so here.
Here is an episode from the Words That Burn podcast that examines the work of Palestinian poet Najwan Darwish.
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and keep an eye out for her next Solidarity Study Circle for Palestine, which you will be able to find on this calendar.
When I was looking at the news today, it feels like there's been a turning point, because the tenor of how Gaza is covered has really changed, and much more reflects the devastation in Gaza. I loved the prompt of taking an unsympathetic article and editing it, but because I had trouble finding one like that, I edited an article that already highlighted the concerns. I can't actually post a blackout poem here because of the format allowed by substack, but the article I used was a haunting one. "We are about to witness in Gaza the most intense famine since the second world war" by Alex de Waal of The Guardian
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/mar/21/we-are-about-to-witness-the-most-intense-famine-since-world-war-ii-in-gaza
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