the day war came
i folded
into a million pieces
as
europe
took up arms
to defend her homeland
becoming the sorrow
found in every note
in a playlist
awaiting the apocalypse
the day war came
i folded
into a million pieces
more
becoming the rage
found in every immigrant
whose motherland was once
invaded
raped
and pillaged
by foreign policy
in places where
mud is fertile
enough to fetishize
the glow of dark skin
dancing at the threshold
of orientalism
and military occupation
western imperialism
rearing its
ugly head
now tell stories
littered with double standards
in the grips of lessons
familiar
to the psyches
of my
people
notice the silence
between sentences
and in long gazes
it’s full of answers,
hear the breaking of clouds
before the thunder
claps
notice the pretense
in words
hoodwinked,
something hopeful
or patriotic
certain struggles
are worthy of fanfare
and heroism
these are the hands
that carry
a new world order
into clear skies
the same hands
that lift ashes into mouths
used to being fed
lies and conspiracies
i was 7 when
9/11
happened
growing up,
words like terrorist
and uncivilized
sprang across screens
in every home
as america waged
her holy wars
on foreign lands
and peoples
felt deserving of death
and destruction
while the earth slept,
we traveled
traversing makeshift borders:
into damascus
beirut
and
the west bank
over the entrails of
kabul
transgressing boundaries:
into the belly of
baghdad
once
the cradle of
the world’s civilization
call us what we carry
inheriting the war
and traumas
that crossed a bridge
as it trembled
and drowned us at sea
holding skeletons
and secrets
i would never say
but would rather sing
refugees
gaze at the ocean
in search of home
eat salt
learning to breathe
in luminous waters
be warned
the ticket to safety
will be your proximity to whiteness
the tabloids say
this tidal wave of migrants
is different,
this time
they are clean,
prosperous,
educated,
middle-class folk
don’t worry
they are not from
the middle east
not black or brown
dirty or violent
and certainly not,
disposable
they will not steal your jobs
or raid your homes
they are
just. like. us.
freedom,
now
looks like
strapping a bomb
to your chest
and declaring your kinsman:
a
brave
hero
he died for
his country
martyrdom
looks different depending on
where you come from
what you look like
and
who you worship
today,
allies of the world
welcome boycott
divestment
and sanctions
against the sworn enemy
sending their troops
and missiles
and well wishes
but none for saigon
cape town
or the ira
the day war came
pleas of scorched suns
summoned omens
of sacred covenants
rupturing treaties
and two-state solutions
wondering,
whatever happened
to the dead and
their portraits?
one of these days
when lilacs bloom
between cracks of doorways
and regimes
i will unlock the cage
for all to witness
soothe wings that take off
into radioactive turmoil
bones will crow
but at least,
what you have heard
is true
we are coming
to take back what is
rightfully ours
and we’ll rise in the sky
together
free,
at last.
lh
mar 2022
