12 march 2011
i did not realize
that my words are not stones
creating rubble shrapnel
into the ground their toxicity
to poison our children’s children
and here no pageant of journalists
pornographic cameras human rights workers with clipboards
to objectifying questions.
i am not
the wailing arab woman i was taught never to be:
and what is left?
in the wreckage,
where nothing changed physically.
and we build.