Let It Be A Tale

On the power of poets

Photo by Allec Gomes

Before Palestinian journalists begged the world to strike on their behalf last weekend, the following note is what I had scheduled to share with you on Monday. I’m sending an extra email this week, because I want to introduce you to a poet.

It’s difficult to know what to write here at this point. Personally, I feel like I’m losing my mind seeing the patterns of history repeated right in front of me, like:

• the pattern of suppression of opposition to war (it’s particularly obvious in social media spaces)

• the pattern of propaganda and telling us what we see with our own eyes is not reality (like the Israeli military saying it has given “safe zones” to the people of Gaza)

• the pattern of silence (the words of Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel ring in my ears, “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”)

• the pattern of words not matching actions (our government says Palestinian life must be protected but vetoes UN ceasefire resolutions and sidesteps Congress to send more weapons to the Israeli government)

I’m crushed to now have the answer as to how something as horrible as genocide can occur. It feels useless to continue to say all this, though.

A Palestinian Poet

So, instead, I thought today I would share with you a poem by Palestinian poet Dr. Refaat Alareer (this link was his last social media post). Dr. Alareer, who, like me, turned 44 this year, taught literature and creative writing. He co-founded the organization We Are Not Numbers, which matches seasoned authors with young writers in Gaza to help them use storytelling as a form of non-violent resistance.

Last Wednesday, December 6^th, Dr. Alareer was killed in an Israeli airstrike. The day before, he was sheltering in a location with many people and received a phone call from Israeli forces stating they knew where he was, so he moved to avoid so many others being targeted. Unfortunately, the location he fled to was his sister’s home. Dr. Alareer’s sister, her three children, and his brother were also killed in the airstrike.

Here is his poem, published a month prior to his death.

If I Must Die

If I must die,

you must live

to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh

not even to himself—

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up

above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there

bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope

let it be a tale.

I shared Dr. Alareer’s poem because even though I don’t know what to write and every word feels useless, I needed to be reminded of the truth that the most powerful entities in the world are terrified of activist writers who fiercely care for their communities.

Authoritarianism is so brittle it can be ended by a poem—every word contributing to another crack. This is why the Israeli government murdered Refaat Alareer.  

It’s okay to stay brokenhearted, Neighbors, but we shouldn’t give up on the power of words.

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One small thing (for 12/11/23): Please consider taking 5 minutes and donating $5 to We Are Not Numbers. Maybe your $5 will help support the young writer whose words finally deliver peace to Palestine.

And tell me, how is your mind today? How is your heart?

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