I don’t know your ocean, but I know our lakes.
And I imagine the love I have for my lake is
the same as you have for your ocean.
I imagine you love the way the sun warms your face as you hear the water on the shores,
the way I also love the sun.
I haven’t heard the sound of your child’s laughter, but I know the way I feel when I hear mine and I know your love is as deep as mine for all these things.
I imagine how birds will return to the branches of your olive trees again, the way the birds return after winter here on our trees and bring us hope for abundant gardens, baskets of fruits, and the sounds of people having casual conversations, glorious conversations of nothing really.
Chatter of nothing because there is peace, because the war is over, and
because the bombs have stopped.
****
Ceasefire, for god’s sake. Ceasefire now.
