Middle East Encounter
Seeds were roasted on za'atar and grape leaves stuffed
with sweetmeats. Falafel balls rolled on the platter
and hummus and babaganoush sloshed patiently
in bowls as we dipped pita bread and talked of atrocities
from the eternal front, but we spoke with joy as musicians
shook tambours and beat drums, as dancers raised hands
and swirled in front of us, and on arriving home you sent
me the latest articles, what Sunday scribes opined and
human rights groups, their press releases, even the U.N.
chief calling for investigation knowing that a vote
in the Security Council would be vetoed by one
or more of the permanent members. We know
the ritual. We know the score. But we go on,
exhausting all civil means, calling on morality,
shame, writing poems, appealing to the conscience
of presidents and prime ministers, that they insist
on unearthing truth, from where the errant or targeted
bullet came, and who must now take the blame.
Indran Amirthanayagam, c) May 15, 2022
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