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Your hope is the last thing they can kill

Writer: Harold MosqueraHarold Mosquera


City at night

The sunlight will break through the blindfold tomorrow morning, so please allow me to hold on to my worries until then. Perhaps I'm mistakenly letting the night do its job. Of the few things left to believe in, the night is one of them: it lifts up a heavy weight of long-haul concerns. A war that is so foreign to this city's daily life privileges has become so well-known to my hopeful thoughts.


We shall see in the morning. Since the unrealistic morning of October 7th, everything that the night holds off from me becomes an opportunity for hope. From the many things we've destroyed on this borrowed planet, the night still can not exist without an upcoming sunlight. So long as our human behaviour allows this planet to rotate, the night can still turn everything into a new beginning.


Tonight, I pray for the night to touch your inner fears. I have not been blind to your wounds, I have not been deaf to your sobbing, and I have not been filled with your famine. Please, remain hopeful one day more, you will make it through the night. The sun will be the judge, we shall see in the morning. I know It's been 6 months. that I do know, out of many things I can not know.


Thousands of miles between your reality and mine don't let me see it all. The distance serves as the most powerful gun. Miles are the new bullets. They reduce actions to a two-sided judgment: no matter the action one takes, it is all liable to either criminality or complicity. The most miserable side of our humanity flares up in any war. The one on the Gaza border is not exempt from it. Speaking out has the same useless effect as shouting out, and keeping thoughts quiet is automatically translated into perpetuating the war.


I resist speaking. I resist being silent. Something the night can't take away is my passion for grey. My life was subject for a long time to a black-and-white dichotomy. I chose the grey; I chose driving out of the highway just as I do driving out of a two-sided war. I chose to be hopeful, which is not quite welcomed: -Hope for a ceasefire is for ingenuos- they say. Well, from peace deals, I am a firm obeyer, unclear about what god is hearing my prayers. I am with the lives of innocent civilians, and so are my thoughts, my bus rides, my walks, and my lunch. We shall see in the morning.


A reason why talks have not reached a peace agreement could be that for 75 years, all the parties involved have brought their own agenda to a conflict that can only be solved with a shared agenda. Will decision-makers mind to consider that a day surviving to gunshots has become as rewarding as a day surviving to an empty stomach? We shall see in the morning when the sun shines through your window, aiming to seal off your open wounds and feeding up your ever-lasting hopes.

I can't step into a field of politics where the only field at stake is that of innocents begging for basics. I can't forget the events that my eyes can't avoid. I am unable to hate the things that I am incapable of sensing. Tonight, hope is my only capacity, and although it can't heal your body, it will stay here until the night you come home. We shall see in the morning.


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What can you do about the humanitarian crisis in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territory?

In the UK, you can follow the Government's advice on how and where to donate responsibly: https://www.gov.uk/government/news/gaza-what-you-can-do-to-help (URL captured on 01/04/2024).

 
 
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