Because there is gun powder / coursing through her blood / the sound
of bombs against buildings once put her to sleep / a lullaby of missiles
hitting bodies. Because she was born ten days before the 1946 Arab
Israeli War & her mother’s / thirst / during that hijra is enough
to make my tongue swell & yellow. Because she was unnamed / among
700,000 refugees / & the weight of desperation on her mother’s
shoulders was sometimes heavier / than love. Because my
great-grandfather spent twenty-five days searching amongst the rubble
for my great-aunt / found her 18-month-old body in the warm hands
of a Christian couple. I would like to believe / in a world where people
comfort children / that are not their own. I would like to believe in a world
in which you can find humanity / in war.
Why is Your Grandmother’s Name Jehad?
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