Dear Reader,

Today I have no designs on your sympathy; I’ll write no sad symphonies on your heartstrings; I have surrendered—and I’ll tell you why.

There is little comfort in the fact that the symptoms of society's maladies are obscured, that the ways in which we exacerbate, participate, or consent are tacit and routine. The multiplicity of problems is so great that even perceiving the tip of the iceberg, without knowing what manifold horrors may lurk just out of sight, ought to suffice for a dramatic change in trajectory. The tragedy of human nature is that too often we are not moved to action until dire circumstance makes action all but impossible.

Although you may not know it from the news, Palestine falls into the former category—it is neither Iraq nor Darfur—ordinary run-of-the-mill Palestinians, can act to alleviate almost any of the afflictions that presently beset them (most, though not all of which can be largely attributed to the Israeli Occupation). You can get an education in Nablus, though schools are overcrowded; you can go to University in Palestine, though few can easily afford the high tuition; we have the internet, roads (though most outside the city are owned by Israel), plumbing, in most places sewage systems, many even have cable television; here you can ply a trade, own a store, have a family, though money is scarce, none are easy, and your greatest fear is that it can all be destroyed against your will without a moment’s notice. In short, there is room to breathe for most here in Nablus, though the air must first pass through military checkpoints to get here, and there is enough freedom for the voices of social agitators, political pundits, or activists calling out the rallying point before the storm. And if in doing so they surely risk being targeted by the Israeli army for assassination or arrest, still too many have prematurely succumbed to either despair or self-absorption, choosing not to act, or choosing not to see that they like most other people in the world yet retain an active role in shaping it.

Life precarious and so it is precious; it is sweet and so we wring every last possible drop out of it. Thus when a time comes to act, we rather willingly bind ourselves in a blindfold of our own making and let the years pass in delirious denial, in self-pity, in self-contentment.

Though the way has been paved with obstructions and barriers, no one has more to gain from a fair resolution to the situation in Palestine than the Palestinians. Every community, society, nation, every sub-set of humanity—that magnificent term which we invented to set ourselves apart from animalkind—faces problems of a similar nature on varying magnitudes: deteriorating natural resources from collapsed ecosystems, global warming, unchecked corruption in government, extremes of poverty, mediocre or failed educational systems, woefully inadequate healthcare systems, neglect of those most in need be they the old, the hungry, the ignorant, the poor, the sick, the outsiders and the loners. Palestine is unique simply because here problems manifest themselves more prominently, occur more regularly, more violently, and contrast more sharply with our attempts to remain blissfully oblivious to our duty to partake in the solution.

So, dear reader, today from Palestine I have no designs on your sympathy; I'll write no sad symphonies on your heartstrings; without effort or thought, we have surrendered—how then can we ask of our neighbors in a time of need, rally on my behalf?

Evening Passage from Egypt

Moses wandered here
in desert purgatory
between Pharoah and Promised Land.

They prayed to God
and heavenly bread issued from stones and sand.

How long was it? 40 years?


Now at dusk the Sinai is peach:
chocolate colored shrubs sprinkle its dark sorbet surface,
and the sky is Cool Whip colored cream.

40 years? 4 hours and I'm starving.

Earth

I cup you in my hands
try to clasp you between fingers
but strands of your hair
trail after you
as you fall slowly
back onto your bed
and I would follow you
to beg an embrace
from your loving heavy arms
were it not death.

--from the Sinai