Rifqa

by Mohammed El-Kurd

Please tell me: Why is anger–even anger–a luxury to me?

Rifqa

1956 lucky refugeesgiven houses luckywrapped in the shiny promises of UNRWAthe Jordanian governmentgrandma a lucky refugeegrew vines of roses around the house; this time the roses had thorns just in case.

Invaderscame back once again, claimed the land withfists and fireexcusesbeliefs of the chosen and the promised as if God is a real-estate agent.

Here, we know two suns: earth’s friend and white phosphorus. Here, we know two things: death and the few breaths before it. What do you say to children for whom the Red Sea doesn’t part?

They brought divinity to the crime scene to avoid justice.

and Washington spat on Mandela a few breaths before it kissed him.