Ripped Apart
I’ve seen the footage a hundred times – shots fired into an unarmed crowd, the whistling sound and then the smoke. Then, someone is carried away for having their body ripped apart. Only this time, I know the face. The voice.
A couple months ago, she wrote a plea. “O America, my America… stop making weapons to test on demonstrators in Palestine.” Now, she lies in a hospital after a gas grenade left the barrel and found not pavement but instead her face.
This time it was she that was carried away amongst the panic and human wails.
I know so little about that part of the world and its conflict. But in a way, I now know more then I ever wished to. And I will never make sense of it, no matter how many times I watch the video of her bleeding in the street.
