To A Palestinian Mother

Written by: Naima B. Robert

My sister
In humanity,
In the pain of childbearing
In the struggle of childrearing,
My sister in Islam

I heard that they killed your children
Slaughtered by the hundreds and thousands
Young lives snatched from the jaws of destiny
Young dreams to be dreamed no more

And I cannot comprehend.

For no matter how many times
I hear,
Read
Or see it,
I cannot know your pain.

I cannot know what it is to once have felt a life kick and twist inside you
And then, a few brief years later, lay those once kicking legs, lifeless, into the earth.

I cannot know what it is to once have heard a voice cry and laugh for you
And then, a few brief years later, lay that once smiling face, lifeless, into the earth.

I cannot know what it is to once have held your child, whole, in your arms
And then, a few brief years later, have to gather him up as blood, bones and flesh.

No matter how many times I hear,
Read,
Or see it,
I cannot know your pain.

For every number out of a hundred dead
Was a child once
With a mother who
Lived,
Loved
And sacrificed for him.

And so, my sister
Forgive me
My helplessness shames me
My powerlessness maims me
My conscience blames me.

So I will pray for you
I will give what I can for you
I will tell your story
I will remember you

But with a heart full of humility

For no matter how many times I hear,
Read
Or see it,
I cannot know your pain.

Forgive me, my sister
Forgive me.