On The Way to a Funeral
–for Shireen Abu Akleh, Palestinian American journalist shot dead on May 11 th , 2022
while covering an Israeli military raid in the West Bank
while covering an Israeli military raid in the West Bank
On the muscular shoulders of
devoted men
her wooden casket,
its lid adorned
with the suffering figure
of Christ on the cross
is borne from East Jerusalem
toward the stone walls and
ancient streets of the
Old City.
The procession for the
martyred journalist
grows quickly
in size and intensity
as mourners and admirers
flock to the scene
some waving Palestinian flags.
Soon black-clad Israeli riot police,
in protective gear, sense
a power they cannot control
has been unleashed.
Fear and confusion tear
through the rough streets
like a mighty wind
soon erupting into violence.
Shouting threats,
wielding batons and stun grenades,
officers beat mourners
about their heads and limbs
cuffing some by the neck and
taking them prisoner.
The party presses on defiantly, a
massive human tide
of fists and wild kicks
thrown in retaliation.
Men with bearded faces twisted in fury
and women screaming in rage
maintain a human shield around
the unwieldy load.
Several times the casket lists
violently, nearly toppling,
the foot dropping down like a man
brought to his knees
the crucifix shuddering
from the blows.
Each time the casket is
borne up again on steadfast shoulders
until finally,
bruised and battered, bearing
deep gouges and splintered wood,
it arrives in triumph at the
Cathedral of the Annunciation of the Virgin.
Massive doors swing open on a
kingdom of unimaginable riches,
where the helmet the journalist wore
on the day she was slain
has become her golden crown.
Christ rises from the
casket’s wooden cross,
shakes the dust from his feet
and calls to her, Shireen.
devoted men
her wooden casket,
its lid adorned
with the suffering figure
of Christ on the cross
is borne from East Jerusalem
toward the stone walls and
ancient streets of the
Old City.
The procession for the
martyred journalist
grows quickly
in size and intensity
as mourners and admirers
flock to the scene
some waving Palestinian flags.
Soon black-clad Israeli riot police,
in protective gear, sense
a power they cannot control
has been unleashed.
Fear and confusion tear
through the rough streets
like a mighty wind
soon erupting into violence.
Shouting threats,
wielding batons and stun grenades,
officers beat mourners
about their heads and limbs
cuffing some by the neck and
taking them prisoner.
The party presses on defiantly, a
massive human tide
of fists and wild kicks
thrown in retaliation.
Men with bearded faces twisted in fury
and women screaming in rage
maintain a human shield around
the unwieldy load.
Several times the casket lists
violently, nearly toppling,
the foot dropping down like a man
brought to his knees
the crucifix shuddering
from the blows.
Each time the casket is
borne up again on steadfast shoulders
until finally,
bruised and battered, bearing
deep gouges and splintered wood,
it arrives in triumph at the
Cathedral of the Annunciation of the Virgin.
Massive doors swing open on a
kingdom of unimaginable riches,
where the helmet the journalist wore
on the day she was slain
has become her golden crown.
Christ rises from the
casket’s wooden cross,
shakes the dust from his feet
and calls to her, Shireen.
–from the Washington Post on May 14th , Steve Hendrix and
Sufian Taha contributing to the video report
Sufian Taha contributing to the video report
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Suzanne Morris
Suzanne Morris is a novelist and a poet. Her poems are included in various anthologies, including No Season for Silence (Kallisto Gaia Press) and Gone, but Not Forgotten (Stone Poetry Journal). Examples have also appeared in The Texas Poetry Assignment, The New Verse News, and Arts Alive San Antonio. |