How much do you really know them
if they always keep that lock
on their hearts and minds and gullets
too afraid to unleash their sadness—
yet carry that old key in their pocket
to the old country?
How much of history can I repeat
or not, if I can’t unlock the truth?
How can I say
I KNOW…
When there is know difference
in the knowing of silence.
Sure, I know about that big book
the book about Ramallah, Al-Bireh
and Bethlehem, and sure
I know were not Muslim—
and yeah, I know about the 5 Originals
But, how can I assure I have a past
when truth is erased, locked down
by hands that betrayed them—
by unspoken neighbors
silence among friends
and clandestine traitors.
I demand answers
knowing
erasure is not accepted—
answers are what I wanted
and knew that is all
you ever wanted too.
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Amol Tyagi on Unsplash
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