Sweet Caroline After the Bombs
Location
On the morning of April 15, 2013, you were beautiful
And the city was well aware.
But by the afternoon Boston, its back arching with chaos, had changed it's mind.
The shouts of the bigots drowned out the tolerant majority.
The next day before you go out
you hold your silk hijab in your hands
and contemplate.
Shunned if you don't
and now
shunned if you do.
I remember you used to stand on the harbor and spread your arms out, turned towards the city
The only person on the North Shore who could face away from the ocean,
leaving the entire atlantic unsupervised behind you
Your hidden shoulder blades were really just grooves eroded by the waves
because in Palestine you had the sea
but you did not have the freedom.
and when tide came in
you did not move.
You stood there-
the real statue of liberty
But the city,
adorned with all races
a polyglot
wearing jewels that shine in every color
from every nation
now shoots you hostile glances
and pretends not to see
the injustice.
What a wonderful story your life has been
although this chapter is entirely a narrative of sirens
with intermittent moments of silence
that are strikingly accurate descriptions
of uncertainty
a feeling that bonds us together
like the tangling train routes of Boston
beyond our control
and sometimes in spite of us.
The woman with no hair at all to cover
The young man with thick tortoise shell glasses and an extra large cardigan
The family with cocoa shaded skin
The girl here for the summer, from Holland
You, beautiful, with your Hijab.
We are all scared.
So instead,
A vow from those of us who see beyond the prejudice that severed something so beautiful long ago.
I promise that
if tomorrow, in this temporary minefield, if you loose the legs you run with, if you do not have hands to grasp with, if you are lacking limbs to embrace with
we will find a way to hold you.