How time has slipped by. I crossed the border back to Jordan a few days ago and have only just gotten out of bed. I am bone tired and it is somehow Ramadan again. Hard to believe I arrived last spring during this sacred time. It feels like I never left. In some ways I never did. Six months out of the past year spent in the West Bank and my heart has grown roots. I am bone tired and yet I feel unsettled, restless, already scheming how I will return. It was hard to be there, but it is harder to leave.
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So much has happened. I don’t know where to begin. When a month passed without an update, people from back home texted and told me they missed reading my posts. But I did not go to Palestine to write. Writing will always be secondary to living and living took all my focus. I had no moment to digest and reflect, but hopefully now I will have the space to try to distill some of what I experienced into words.
The last time I left Palestine I struggled to find adequate language — any language at all — to make sense of what I witnessed. So I left this blog hanging, without wrapping anything up. Perhaps I knew it would only be a temporary pause until I went back. This time I feel similarly overwhelmed by the task of documenting, but I also feel a sense of urgency that overrides my apprehension. A new fire has been built in me and I see how so much of this struggle for liberation is a struggle to tell the truth. We all have a responsibility to share what we know. With so much propaganda muddying what people think they see, it is now more important than ever. So much is at stake.
