Anguish
A man in a long white robe emerging from a small old alleyway. People passing by like a colorful stream. The elderly lady in a skirt wearing a straw hat and her sage-colored shawl loosely wrapped around her reminds me of a Renaissance painting. The bodies of the seagulls glow white in the golden hour sun. Some teenagers are completely absorbed in their group dynamics, oblivious to the reality around them. The sunlight swirls around leisurely, using the sea as a dance floor. A young couple in the u-bahn finds rest on the shoulders of each other. Picturesque scenes around the globe.
No journey serves as an escape from this shamelessness. You ask me about my vision, about what’s next? Shattered into small pieces. Vaporized. I can only see the black night sky. Bleaky black. Every swipe shatters my heart into more pieces. When the question “How are you?” becomes dangerous because it brings you close to a breakdown. Every damn time. When you feel like you have to have hope. Show strength. Act courageously. But all you can muster is that like on social media. When all you want is peace and freedom in Palestine, but all you get is a veto in the UN Security Council.
„Anguish. A mix of shock, incredulity, grief, and powerlessness. Powerlessness is particularly painful. Coming back to our bodies can be difficult after experiencing anguish.“ By Brené Brown.
This is afterwards. When hypocrisy is no longer hidden, but proudly displayed. The double standard is the pain that is added to the pain of all the atrocities we witness on our screens. Families being torn apart. Entire families wiped out. Crying, humiliated, slaughtered, children, women, men. Thousands of civilians seeking refuge in a supposedly safe zone, only to be bombed to death. Amputated limbs everywhere. Family homes, schools, mosques, churches, ancient buildings pulverized before the international eye. Reem, his soul of his soul, killed like 7.000 other children. “The focus is on the damage, not the accuracy” says Daniel Hagari.
When you feel within yourself and all you face is nothing but a trembling reality. Like those trembling lips of that boy whom we’ll never forget.
When I have the twins I have always dreamed of, I will name them Bisant and Motaz. From her, I’ve learned to appreciate the beautiful moments in life — no matter what, to enjoy life. I really try to do that. Fully engaging in stroking the neck of the cat. Taking in the sound of the waves, the smell of fresh coffee. Bathing in the growing smile of that face. Appreciating the beauty of nature. Losing myself in the eyes of the Murmelbär.
Small moments of light that show the way. Like shooting stars in the sky. A swing that moves me back and forth. As comforting as the rocking of a mother with her child in her arms. The moment when a question you’ve been carrying around for months is suddenly answered in an unexpected conversation. The sound of Surah al Kahf mingling with the sound of the waves. “And give them a parable of this worldly life. ˹It is˺ like the plants of the earth, thriving when sustained by the rain We send down from the sky. Then they ˹soon˺ turn into chaff scattered by the wind. And Allah is fully capable of ˹doing˺ all things.” 18:45. Those small rituals that gives you structure. Lighting a candle, using a table cloth even if its an advertising paper, saying good morning and sleep tight.
I don’t want to live in a world where bombing children is a question of what is a proportional response? No one is free until all of us are free.
There was once a promise to myself to never become like a stone again. That was before.
„I have become to be a cold person despite the reality of me being always excited about things I really don’t care about anything whatever is good or bad. I am only curious about a ceasefire.“ Motaz