10 Ounces

a call for salaam, shalom, peace!

the first half of my poem on a dark purple background with a heart made of white feathers on the bottom right corner

10 ounces.
Roughly the size of a large first
in the air rising up against violence.
Twice the weight of a dove, the universal symbol
of salaam¹, shalom², peace: love.

This fist-sized heart of mine can’t possibly contain
a sea of tears, so the rest become poetry.

Over 10 thousand humans lost
to a genocide they didn’t cause—
their future breaths, the cost.

A 10th of an ounce.
This pen in my hand
demanding change
weighs far heavier than its parts
and will not rest.
This sea of tears
will note recede to a ravine
until the Palestinians know salaam, peace,
until the Israelis know shalom, peace,
until Muslims and Jews know peace,
until the world understands that all these people
aren’t their corrupt governments.
They eat, sleep, dream just like you and me.
(Or they try to, at least.)

True solidarity cannot be when “less than”
is how any group of people is seen.

10 ounces.
All our hearts weigh, bleed, beat the same.

1. the Arabic word for peace

2. the Hebrew word for peace