Reflections on War

This weekend, a series of cascading tragedies in Israel and Palestine have left many friends of mine with deep pain, loss, and suffering. I have tried writing tweet after tweet, post after post, but I cannot hit send. I cannot find any way to express to those closest to me the depth of sorrow I feel for their loss. This reflection is an attempt, albeit imperfect, to do this.

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“We extract your elements to make cannons and bombs but out of our elements you create lilies and roses. How patient you are Earth and how merciful!”

-Gibran Khalil Gibran

The unfolding tragedy in Gaza wrenches the heart. I think to my own family and the unbearable pain of imagining their loss at the hands of bloody murder, whether a bomb or a bullet, irrespective of the reasons or ideologies motivating it. Those orchestrating such grievous acts have drifted from the core of their humanity, succumbing to the treacherous illusion that one existence holds greater value than another. While the trajectory that led us here is known to the world, there seems to be a collective amnesia or willful neglect of this recurring cycle of violence and oppression, as predictable as the changing seasons. Yet, the global consensus appears content in enduring a ceaseless winter, rather than striving for a harmonious peace. The result offers no reprieve.

Fields that once brimmed with vibrant blooms are now marred by remnants of conflict, with landmines lurking where flowers should stand. Skies, which should be filled with the tranquil flight of birds and the gentle stirrings of breezes, are now clouded by missiles, drones, and the vestiges of confrontation. The harmonious melodies of laughter, song, and children's joy have been overshadowed by the heart-wrenching sobs of those in mourning, the cries emanating from beneath collapsed structures, the blaring sirens of impending danger, and the shattering booms that signal destruction. The once familiar, comforting scents of jasmine, shisha, robust coffee, and oven-fresh bread are now masked by the horrifying odors of war's aftermath: scorched skin, stale blood, decay, and the pervasive tang of combustion. Everywhere, the specter of death looms, casting shadows on all corners of life. This region, often seen as a gateway to heaven, is now teetering perilously close to the gates of hell.

To all of my friends who are suffering, words cannot convey the depths of my sorrow for your loss. True empathy requires some understanding of another's pain, and few can truly grasp this magnitude of agony and loss. I certainly cannot.

This is not an attempt to walk a middle line politically. It is an acknowledgment that I see you hurting, I hear your anger and pain, and, regardless of everything else, I want you to know that you are in my love and in my prayers.