You. Yes, you. Call out to Lucifer, the light-bringer, the morning star, and pray for something far beyond yourself. Beyond your flesh and blood, beyond your own needs and desires.
O, Lucifer, bear your clarifying torch before the people of Palestine. Show them your light, empower them in their time of need.
Liberate the people from all threats, reunite families and cease the witless carnage.
I pray for the safety of those in danger, and for the freedom of each Palestinian person facing cruelty in the sullied name of the 'holy land.'
For you, Lucifer, my lord, I offer my devotion, full and true. I offer my time, my trust, and a place within my home.
Use my offerings, and use them well. I extend my soul to you.
** Note: Remember! Prayer is not the only way to help. Sign petitions, donate where you can, and boycott any pro-Israel business you can live without. Free Palestine! 🇵🇸
struggles in my daily life prevent me from being completely grateful of all that i am, and all that i have. but more often than never, i remind myself, ‘i was born fortunate.’
i was born fortunate to have been nurtured and warm in my mother’s arms.
i was born fortunate to have been and still be educated on what’s right and wrong.
i was born fortunate to have a wise aunt who introduced the movie ‘12 Years A Slave’ to me at 10 in 2013.
i was born fortunate to baske in the freedom my ancestors fought so hard for in our long past.
i was born fortunate to occupy my very motherland that foreign oppressors and invaders once took from us.
i was born fortunate to be in the safety of my own home. with food. electricity. water. and everything i need.
i was born fortunate. but my Palestinian brothers and sisters, are not.
i like to believe that i’m restrained and incapable to extend my help but how could i complain, when the rest of them have lost their lives. when the rest of them have half their bodies buried in the rubble.
when they have nothing else to look forward nor be thankful for. no family, a bleak future, with allies and neighbors that seem more like enemies. and all they’re holding on to is a tiny gleam of hope that it all goes quiet. that it’s done. and they no longer have to fight a war they’re losing.
i want to hope that people in need of promise and help be delivered this. it might not be interesting nor written by a renowned writer, but it’s a heartfelt letter by a 20-year-old Asian who’s hoping that this message reaches where and who it should touch.
i grieve for all we have lost and continue to lose.
I don’t know how to hold this. My excavation is in Israel. Just two months ago I got back from a summer there.
Every (hopefully) person I just met in Ashkelon has fled their homes. The woman who helped me sort out my change in a corner store without a cash register screen. The man who welcomed me to his country. The families in the park celebrating Shabbat together with music and food. The gift shop woman who consistently got me a strawberry slushy.
This was the city that was bombed. This was the city they evacuated. They were not other. They were not lesser.
These people are losing a home for who knows how long. These people are losing their lives and their friends and their family and the people who smile at them when they walk down the street and their doctors and their bankers and every employee that’s ever given them change back.
Yet there are people cheering in the streets on both sides of this fight.
I went to the Southern Levant to study a culture long lost. To revive our knowledge of it and to understand it for what it was and what it means for us now. But I do not care to uncover something lost if I do not have anyone to give it back to.
People are dying. Civilians and soldiers alike. People are being massacred on both sides. People are dying.