by Karina Ithier ’20
I do not understand how
Our lives of suffering,
The faces of devastation from
A land of exiles
Are used as art in the homes
Of your people- where deserts
Are an ancient sanctity, and civilians
Are a stencil of a nomadic civilization when
We are nomads not by choice when
We are a civilization lost–
Or how the faces of my people
Are artifacts for your pity?
Who are the artists? Your people
And their documentaries of
Identities stolen, living among the dead
Or the War that will extinguish us all?
