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Wednesday, 28 November 2012

We Teach Life, Sir.

Hello readers!

I've noticed my viewers going up and I'd just like to thank you all for that, it's very much appreciated!

Today's post is a little bit political, even though I'm not a huge fan. I read this poem and it lit this fire inside of me, so I thought I'd share..

A poem by Rafeef Ziadah, We Teach Life Sir.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits filled enough with statistics to counter measured response.
And I perfected my English and I learned my UN resolutions.
But still, he asked me, Ms. Ziadah, don’t you think that everything would be resolved if you would just stop teaching so much hatred to your children?
Pause.
I look inside of me for strength to be patient but patience is not at the tip of my tongue as the bombs drop over Gaza.
Patience has just escaped me.
Pause. Smile.
We teach life, sir.
Rafeef, remember to smile.
Pause.
We teach life, sir.
We Palestinians teach life after they have occupied the last sky.
We teach life after they have built their settlements and apartheid walls, after the last skies,
We teach life, sir.
But today, my body was a TV’d massacre made to fit into sound-bites and word limits.
And just give us a story, a human story.
You see, this is not political.
We just want to tell people about you and your people so give us a human story.
Don’t mention that word “apartheid” and “occupation”.
This is not political.
You have to help me as a journalist to help you tell your story which is not a political story.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.
How about you give us a story of a woman in Gaza who needs medication?
How about you?
Do you have enough bone-broken limbs to cover the sun?
Hand me over your dead and give me the list of their names in one thousand two hundred word limits.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits and move those that are desensitized to terrorist blood.
But they felt sorry.
They felt sorry for the cattle over Gaza.
So, I give them UN resolutions and statistics and we condemn and we deplore and we reject.
And these are not two equal sides: occupier and occupied.
And a hundred dead, two hundred dead, and a thousand dead.
And between that, war crime and massacre, I vent out words and smile “not exotic”, I smile "not terrorist"
And I recount, I recount a hundred dead, a thousand dead.
Is anyone out there?
Will anyone listen?
I wish I could wail over their bodies.
I wish I could just run barefoot in every refugee camp and hold every child, cover their ears so they wouldn’t have to hear the sound of bombing for the rest of their life the way I do.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre
And let me just tell you, there’s nothing your UN resolutions have ever done about this.
And no sound-bite, no sound-bite I come up with, no matter how good my English gets, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite will bring them back to life.
No sound-bite will fix this.
We teach life, sir.
We teach life, sir.
We Palestinians wake up every morning to teach the rest of the world life, sir.
First of all, an applause to Rafeef for such a passionate, well written out, thought of poem. I admire her for that, really. And now to the purpose.. The Palestinian dream. For year after year after year, and for as long as every Palestinian can remember, they've been under invasions, getting bombed every second, every minute, every hour, but has anyone come to the rescue? Sure, people mention it. Of course, we see it in the news. But has anyone tried to help? All a Palestinian would like is to wake up one day and not have to listen to the sounds of bombings, gun shootings, and a person's last scream before their body hits the ground. Put yourself in their shoes for a second.. Just one second. Do you feel their pain? But after all that, a Palestinian boy smiles, a Palestinian mother bakes bread, and a Palestinian father rushes to bring them their needs. They fight for a day where they'll know what freedom is, they fight to live, they fight to love and they keep holding onto every inch of hope they can find. And right there, they teach us life. Right there, they teach the whole world, life.

I hope this inspires you, because no matter how far your dreams seems to be, put in mind, it's never far of reach. Whenever you feel like there's nothing you can do, put yourself in their shoes. Their tragedy is your lesson, learn it and use them as motivation.

* Note: You don't have to agree, it's my opinion and I'll welcome any disagreements.


Keep viewing for more,
xoxo,
Teen Diary.
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