not forgotten

My heart bleeds for you.

It yearns for your freedom. Your salvation.

You are undeserving of your circumstances.

It bleeds for your children. For their lives to be restored in a free Palestine, so that they may see with their eyes the beauty of their homeland.

Yemen. It bleeds for your infants. That they need not come into this world with gnawing hunger in their bellies, that they grow strong and healthy as all children should.

It yearns for the day the chirping of birds replaces the sounds of bombs. The day the Syrian people can look up into their sky and marvel at the clouds for hours instead of seconds. Without fearing that this stolen moment is a risk to their lives.

My heart burns for you, dear Sudan. It curses your enemies. Those who stripped you limb from limb as the rest of the world watched in silence. If your pain were a physical entity I would pull the trigger myself. So that your eyes may be cleansed of the devastation you’ve seen, your hearts lightened from the mourning.

Allahu akbar. It yearns for the day my brothers and sisters, the Rohingya and Chinese muslims, may utter these sacred words, shout, scream them into the air without ever seeing the inside of a concentration camp or fleeing the only home they’ve ever known.

I am sorry the world turned a blind eye on you and so many others. That it continues to value select, privileged lives over others. I am sorry for the so-called leaders, bellies disgustingly full in their lavish skyscrapers, backs turned in ignorance as you burned in anguish.

I am sorry for the false and misguided sympathies. For the exploitation of your pain the self-righteous cannot help but indulge in. For the media that left you voiceless.

In my dreams I see red, black, white, green, yellow. your flags meeting, entwining, dancing, in that vast expanse above. I see the smiling face of Alan Kurdi. He is alive, breathing, laughing. A beautiful little boy who dreams endless dreams.

And may you have that chance again. To dream. To live out your lives to the fullest without ever knowing violence, or dread, or grief ever again. I pray that your nightmare ends. Insha’Allah. God-willing.