For the last few weeks,
Every night, as I lie awake
And every morning when I wake,
My stomach churns, soul burns,
My mind aflood
With screams, and bombs, and blood

And as I go about my day,
I’m awash with pain –
How the laden dinner table,
Children’s squabbles, peals of laughter, bedtime palava –
Jars with Palestinian terror and trauma!

And it’s this pain and fury,
That compels me
To pray, protest,
Organise, mobilise…

And yet,

When the sky no longer bursts into orange flames,
And nights are dark and quiet again,
When children are no longer charred in their sleep
Or awakened by piercing shrapnel and screams,

When Gaza drops from my feed,
The Twitter storms cease,
And blood is no longer splattered on my screen,

Will I slip back into my comfortable, self-absorbed bubble,
Insulated by apathy,
A mere bystander
In the ongoing, torturous, Palestinian struggle?

Fatema Valji
@fatemavaljipoetry