Tuesday, September 24, 2024
Year : 2, Issue: 38
What to do when faced with tear bombs
Hold on to the hand of your lover. Because when the baton falls it will be between the spaces where we stand. That’s where I connect to you. In the absence of this connection, I am an island. Here, at this point, make sure you tell them you love them. Love will conquer all, believe it through your eyes—briny though they may feel. Believe it because when everything burns and your skin hurts to touch, there will still be a corner untouched by hurt. When you have to run because they took their chairs out to watch the bodies rot, ask yourself what the difference is between a body and a nation when both are left, in the great silence we do not recognise as silence, with open wounds that no one sees. On concrete, we are islands that hold words. If I love you, if I love all of you, these words will no longer be islands.
Silent friday
Somehow, the taste of tear gas
and fear stuck to my tongue as my father
took me to pray. Cold was the house of god
before he began to speak. He told me he was
somewhere close, and his voice was beautiful
or so it seemed. Everything was suddenly beautiful,
even the floor and the silence of the body and
nation both. At some point I thought
the imam was crying, and
my father turned
‘he sounds beautiful’
he said. I wonder
if all we can do in pain
is be beautiful.
