Tuesday, November 9
ANOTHER ROUND Oh no, when I said that playing doctor is a violence, I did not intend for your piercing vision to sense that I am an angry man. What kind of English are you in the presence of a Palestinian learning his trade? Why did it escape us that my eyes are on your pockets, your body's given over with rights, the ear I float over your tummy, the rubber hammer, my fingertips that compose your exposure. All have become needles and radiation before one hello is uttered and after your next appointment. Oh yes, it's a violence, compassion in servitude of a degrading corpus more precious than most. In Gaza a girl and her brother rescued their fish from the rubble of airstrikes. A miracle that its tiny bowl didn't break. And doctors of all subspecialties there go up in dust, while here the customer's always right. And not everyone's a physician but sooner or later everyone fails to heal. (Fady Joudah)