By Nadia Irshād
New Paragraph
I never realized how much I love my people
until I saw them diced and hung for mass consumption on smartphones
burying fleshy bits that they thought might be their children
I never realized how beautiful our men are
until I saw them carry a woman out from under the rubble
covering their eyes to spare her any indignity
I never realized how much my body ached for the company of my people
until I heard the muezzin cry out and I heard it
I heard it from here, we all did
moon people
That cry was soaked in sorrow and decades of oppression
it echoes as all our children and all our people are lined up to die
by murderous empty fiends, thieves
thieves who can never eat their fill, gorging on counting our dead
killing fields
I never realized what our women were made of
until I saw them stand, dust everywhere, chemical warfare
tears in their eyes, their wombs scream, tethered to the sky
index finger raised
every one of them a Queen, she said
He is the disposer of my affairs
It made my limbs shudder
I never realized how beautiful our children are
when they recite the words they just memorized
tin cans for shoes, flooded tents and torn socks
dancing and singing our folk songs, brightly coloured birds
I never realized how utterly stunning we are
as a people
as a community
as a nation without borders
our index finger since we were seven, sometimes even five
the connection between the vertical and all of us
the cube, the circumnavigation, Abraham's House
the moon and the stars
lunar calendars, circles, crescents and this vast vast
ocean within us
the sun and its way, how shadows lean at mid afternoon prayer
the beauty is so much it exhausts me to think
it's unbearable
it's water