Picking up Rocks
daughter of a palestinian that i am,
………………………………when i see a bloc of young people holding the street
it seems i was born with a rock in my hand
………………………………against a line of police in battle gear—
and i’ve found the world expects that’s who i am.
………………………………i look down and find a rock in my hand.
i have been trying to put that rock down,
………………………………i have tried to put it down every night
tried to set it down in stone mornings quarried—
………………………………out of fear, nausea, and despair
but every afternoon the daily news puts it there
………………………………that weight rolling along
on the shoulders of everyone i know,
………………………………everyone on this train ride home and falling sometimes
so i keep picking up rocks and putting down stones
………………………………in the shape of sanctuary,
one day maybe I’ll have enough for a foundation
………………………………where we can lay on shoulders a poultice of care
where we can pray, if that is possible anymore,
………………………………or grieve, if we can remember what either are for
tonight my mourning is for baltimore:
………………………………a friend out there, a woman I respect, says:
things are pretty bad right now, sis.
………………………………what can we do but pick up pieces?
and you, if you do, should say a prayer of stone.
by Rasha Abdulhadi
from Split This Rock