Thursday, November 11, 2010

For Omar Khadr

We spent our youths in such different ways.

When I was sleepy from staying up late,
You were half-mad from sleep deprivation,
When I was being interviewed,
You were being interrogated,
When I was threatened with failure,
You were threatened with rape,
When I had clever words,
You had tears,
When I was kicked,
You were shot.

When I complained about my government,
About a search here and a frisking there.
You were betrayed by that government,
Its treason against you:
That it had sworn never to let a child,
Be treated like a soldier.

"He's not a soldier!"
Said their sages,
"So his deeds are a crime,
And he deserves no protection."

"He did it on the battlefield"
Said the same,
"So we will not try him,
As a civilian.

Or even as a human being."

When I lashed out in anger,
At the bare-handed boy,
They called it "self-defense."

When you struck out in fear,
At the armed soldier,
They called it "murder."

Not unfathomable for them,
To be blinded by vengefulness and spite,
But 40 years?
As if you had crossed an ocean ,
To make war upon them.
As if you were more
Than a boy.

Not equal in the eyes of God are we,
For how can the one who suffers,
Be equal to the one who is free?

But despair is not a pious trait,
For one day God will decide your fate,
And you will walk into the sun,
Their gates and cages will rust and seize,
And you will finally be free.
And waiting for you will be crowds,
Thronging to see you,
And I among them,

Cheering.

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