Monday, October 22, 2012

I dare you


Miguele Issa is a Christian.  Dania Bdeir is a Sunni. Romy Raad is a Christian.
Rawane Khalil is a Shiite. Zeina Abi Assy is a Christian. Tala Mortada is a Shiite.
Abir Abdul Ahad is a Christian.

I guess, we have been doing it wrong all along.
Miguele, Romy, Tala, Rawane, Dania, Abir and I must have understood it all wrong.
Because we sing together.
We write each other poems.
We dance in one big circle.
We create together, designs in beautiful colors.
We write musicals together.
We give up our lives for each other, if we have to.
We carry each other home after a long night of alcohol and strangers.
We sit together at 6 am, after being up all night, to finish each other’s project.
We hold hands in floaters in the middle of the river to keep each other close.
We hurl into each other’s houses with a colored shirt and ripped converse at the news of a lost father.
We make tea for each other to be able to handle the weight of the makings of cancer.

We have passed our hearts out, one to the other, to keep them safe, because we weren’t able to take care of them ourselves.

Yet, I tie her by the neck as she screams out for help. But I silence her cry and shove a metal piece down her throat. She fidgets in fear and anguish, and her blue eyes are filled with hot red blood, and all I want to do is whip her harder. I whip her until her skin decomposes, her bones surface, and all her blood pours out. I do not rest until Dania is left dry, and I walk away.

She gathers big black worn out tires and presses them against Romy and Abir’s bodies. They are on their knees, begging and pleading for mercy. And Rawane fixes them in place and covers them with gasoline. With black cloth wrapped around half her face, she lights it all up and leaves them to suffocate from the smell of even their own flames. And their last breaths are ignited with a black cloud that carries both away.

Tala knew exactly what would tear Miguele’s heart out, exactly what will leave her to suffer, exactly what will keep her living in despair. She followed Miguele’s family and bombed them in front of her eyes, and left her to deal with the echoes of a broken down house and a broken down life.

We have crafted a nation of suffering and anger.
A place where the hearts of the people have never known love.

We enjoy the rage that is in our streets.
And follow still the venom of our leaders.
We erased the meaning of mercy and grace from the minds of the people.
We have boiled anger and animosity in the insides of the young.
And have watched our country melt down to ashes, in the name of democracy and justice.

God is always watching, protecting our bullets. Protecting them well, straight to the hearts of our enemies. Straight into the lives of the “others” who are not like us.

I dare you to tell us our love is wrong.
I dare you to tell us you know better.
I dare you to put down your weapons.

I dare you to look us in the eye and tell us to kill each other.





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