Sumud Cannot Be Disarmed
the young amputees of Gaza
deprived
by the zionist siege
of the materiality of medical prosthetics
replace them
with plastic pipes
they fit on their stumps
the people of Gaza,
the salt of the rubble,
leave
the flimsy protection of tents
to recycle
broken stones
of what is left of their destroyed homes
using ancestral methods
and the mud of their flooded land
the children of Gaza
do not give in
to a nostalgia
for yesterday’s playgrounds
as they slide
on fallen domes
and create kites
with bin bags
that fly even higher
the students of Gaza
those who will not leave their dreams
behind
search through piles of refuse
for old cardboard boxes
emptied of the aid
obtained under the bullets
and smooth out old fallafel wrappings
they use as notebooks
and paper
to write their essays
and poems on
the survivors of Gaza
do not crave
the materiality of bombs
with their dates of expiry
or high tech weapons
lab tested on their own bodies
because
the inner purpose
of Sumud
invisible to the western eye
seeks the higher ground
where targeted families
and olive trees
do not die
but are replanted
(c) Julia Wright. November 24, 2025. All Rights Reserved to Susan Albuhawa’s playgroundsforpalestine.org, to the steering committee of the Global Sumud Flotilla and to what remains of the family of Refaat Alareer, the poet and educator assassinated by the IOF
My Tsundoku – a poem in praise of unread books
“In Japan, Tsundoku is the practice of buying a lot of books and keeping them in a pile because you intend to read them but have not done so yet.”
in nineteenth century France
the bourgeois poet
Stéphane Mallarmé
wrote
the ways of the flesh are sad
alas
and I have read all the books
but in Japan
there still is today
a word
for all the books we leave unread
and yet acquire
and pile up
to open
when we are ready
It is called Tsundoku
and
implies books have
an infinite life
and a spiritual presence
and healing power
my Tsundoku
is a pantry of perennial produce
waiting patiently
right by my side
to satisfy
my deepest angst –
the bottomless pit
of
American hunger
(c ) Julia Wright. November 25, 2025. All Rights.
The Poet’s Dome
To Mumia Abu-Jamal on this first day of the 12-day Long March from Philadelphia to his prison
our Time
our inner land
is
repeatedly stolen
whether
behind bars
or
in the so-called freedom
of dark days
turned into white nights
censoring our ancestors’ words
and the infinity
of our chances
but poetry,
our poetry,
Play Dohs
Time
stretching it in all possible ways
backwards
to the history of our mutinies
forwards
to new ways of taking back
our liberties –
reclaiming the momentum
of our moments
breathing them
in and out
repeating their rhymes
flying the kites
of their tethered weightlessness
preparing the spiritual food
of their Sumud
our Time
protected by the Poet’s Dome
is in the beat
of our marching feet
our Time
protected by the Poet’s Dome
cannot be
shot down
(c) Julia Wright On the day of the 65th anniversary of the premature death of my father, Richard Wright. Nov. 28, 2025.
All Rights Reserved to Susan Abulhawa’s playgroundsforpalestine.org, to the steering committee of the Global Sumud Flotilla and to what remains of the family of Refaat Alareer assassinated by the IOF
Blood Chokes – from 9 minutes 29 seconds to 790 days
Today is the 790th day of the ongoing genocide in Gaza and the West Bank – a mere number or a message?
if i had a class
of young students
in front of me
i would share with them
questions
i myself am trying to answer
what do nine minutes
and twenty-nine seconds
have in common with
seven hundred
and ninety days?
what does a blood choke
lasting almost ten minutes
in the US of A ,
a Black man’s lynching in broad daylight
by a police officer
five years ago in Minnesota,
a torture in the sunshine
that caused civil unrest worldwide
have to do
with the seven hundred
and ninetieth day
of the Gaza genocide?
how does this theft of one human being’s air
compare
to the seven hundred
and ninety days
of an inhuman siege
choking the blood
out of Gaza?
is it that
like in Italy
the statues are safe
this time round
but governments worldwide
risk being toppled
from their arrogant pedestals
by dockworkers in ports
and a tide of humanity
who know where
the munition factories are?
is it that in both instances
the unspeakable
went viral
in what is called
real time
although there can be no rewinding
in time to save lives?
is it that
saying their names
was not enough
to stop it?
is it that
the IOF soldiers
like the Minnesota police
narcissistically flaunt
their brutality
for all to see?
is it that
Darnella Frazier
and
Bisan Owda
have yet
to meet?
is it that
George Floyd
Eric Garner
Breonna Taylor
were each time
our nation besieged?
is it that
in our giddiness
we did not plan
for the cop city backlash?
is it that
we allowed
US and Israeli
military culture
to flourish and partner
and
continue exchanging
both in the Palestinian lab
and
in ICE mega-warehouses
throughout our land?
is it that
we did not hold on to
the reins of the offensive
while it was
in our hands?
is it that Bibi
is seeking a pardon
for corruption
and, why not, for his war crimes –
just as Derek Chauvin
has the same delusion
that he will get a new trial
in these orange times?
is it that
in both cases
we are being vaccinated
against
a virus
our opponents
call Resistance?
is it
that when George Floyd
said I can’t breathe
and Gaza
says we are stifling
our allied oppressors need
to silence
those who even without oxygen
can still find the words
to name the horror
to the world?
or is it
that simply asking questions
can lead
as it did during slavery
to more lynching,
to
a multiplication –
a thermobaric acceleration
of the nine minutes
and twenty-nine seconds
allotted per death
until whole populations
are made to evaporate
in seconds
because after all
the rich man’s time
is money?
but are not
questions, questions,
and more questions
also
essential weapons?
,
(c) Julia Wright. December 4, 2025 on the 790th day of the genocide in Gaza. All Rights Reserved to Susan Abulhawa’s playgroundsforpalestine.org , to the steering committee of the Global Sumud Flotilla and to what remains of the family of Refaat Alareer whose assassination we commemorate tomorrow.
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