i stay awake with restlessness and fever

because my limb is dying

my limb is on fire

my limb is looking at its dead children

my limb is being bludgeoned

pummeled

the word “oppressed” is not even accurate

we can oppress someone with our words

but how do you describe it when someone kills your neighbors

even though they didn’t do anything

and then kills the next neighbor

and the next

i’d want to say it was “gangster”

but even real gangsters aren’t that cold

that ruthless

that vengeful

there is only one word i know to describe that

“genocide”

the kind of sickness that swept away millions from North America

the kind of evil that burned its way across Myanmar

genocide

but it did not start in Gaza

for 100 years it has been creeping and creeping

it took 268 years in North America

so maybe we are not even halfway

but only the All-Knowing knows that

all i know is that tonight i can’t sleep

feeling guilty that my kids are safe

when my brother is going to live the rest of his life

with the image of his bloodied baby

forever seared into his head

yā ʿAlī al-Asghar!

for years i have not been able to fathom your story

for it seemed too unbelievable

too over-the-top

too dramatic

but now i have witnessed with my own eyes

Hurmala’s arrow

and your lifeless body

in Gaza