i am home;alive

I am home; alive.

From my utter exhaustion, after a horrible shift in the middle of a genocide: I hate the USA. I have never hated anything the way I hate it now.

I wish the USA were a person, someone I could spit in the face of until my last breath.

And I despise those who live comfortably while their country turns our lives into literal hell. I despise those who felt the urge to flood the streets because one of their own was murdered in broad daylight, while for years they ignored our misery, and the hundreds of thousands of us murdered in the same heinous way, with their own tax money, by their own governments.

Only now can they imagine the terrifying violence their own leaders and governments are capable of, violence they long accepted when it was inflicted on foreign civilians, never thinking it could so easily be turned on them too.

I feel the urge to save the world from all of this.

I feel the urge to stretch my energy, my time, and my already limited resources to everyone who is suffering.

I feel the urge to shake people awake from their complicity, to tell them how much harm their ignorance has caused, how much loss it has enabled.

But I can't do any of that right now.

Alll can do is rest my tired body for a moment and write this.

No one can ever capture all this suffering and misery at once, so I won't even try. What I will try to do is say this:I deeply appreciate those who chose to stand against the darkness and the cold. I embrace you. I hold your hands gently, and I show you how much difference you have made.

In a short while, Aboud and I will be back in the streets, on our small mission to save a fragment of the world. We will be distributing jackets and winter clothes to hundreds of babies, children, and mothers on the shore of my camp, where families are left to endure the cold, standing at the edge of an apocalypse.

And all l ask for is more attention. Attention to this cause, so that maybe, one dav, we learn to feel for one another, and take care of each other.