Rise to the occasion

I dream of a home with a mango tree. Where there is patience and several different types of teas. I dream of a place that sustains. A place where giving is receiving and waves of gratitude wash over our pain. I dream of morning windows letting in another chance. Of tender hands softening rough edges with gentleness, and laughter painting the walls with dance. I dream of a hiding place where we find each other. Where our silent eyes meet and for once are able to say, you know me. You know me.

Over one hundred Palestinians killed in an Israeli airstrike as they congregated to pray dawn prayers inside a school in Gaza. One hundred killed in a single Israeli airstrike. They were praying. At dawn. Inside of a school turned shelter. This is genocide and you are bearing witness to it. Do with that what you will.

They will always look for ways to silence the people who speak the truth but the truth always prevails.