Kendall Weaver '20

White savior
I wanted to be one
Believed my hands
Could heal

I tell strangers about her
A Palestinian from Nablus
Tell them she’s my grandmother
An Al-Masri

The volunteer interrupts
the manager who interrupts
the interpreter who interrupts me
All of our voices rise

Warm home, cold floors
Tall stairs, no refrigerator doors
Onions and tomatoes in the stairway
One trip up and back

Bidik gahweh? (Do you want coffee?)
It’s my fourth cup today.
One at each home
Two at the office in between

I walk under them to enter the room
Clothes hanging on the line
Mattresses on the floor
Sleep in their eyes

Dark, musty chaos

People weeping
People praying

The sun
Dances across my pillow
The call to prayer
Beckons me to wake

I saw a rug
in an Israeli shop
late on a Tuesday
West Jerusalem

I hear a voice
Looking over the city at sunset
It’s a Monday
My favorite spot