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Storm of Remembrance Upon what once was Deir Yassin the wind blows strong. Pine needles clustered in crannies, ashen rocks sunk in quarry, moan with rising storm. Bloodied brick and stone; evidence beneath asylum trembles. Insanity housed upon atrocity generations ago so nothing should show, so no one would know when those who witnessed are gone. Wind blows strong. Pine needles bristle. Quarry rocks rumble. Echoes of massacre rise in tune to the howling agony of twisted minds, fusing suppressed memory with pain, unleashing a thunderous symphony shattering the bowels of tombs. Quarry unclenches fists of stone: Ashes stowed in its hold are freed Out, out of the quarry! Wind blows strong. Sun is screened behind ashen haze, a cremated flurry of youths in death propagating their seed. Time stands still. The winds subside. Pine needles nestle in crannies. Barren rocks rest in quarry, silent after the storm. Bloodied brick and stone, tranquil now upon hilltop where Deir Yassin is recognized, where Deir Yassin is mourned. Seeds of truth, dispersed worldwide, take root. Humanity recovers, commemorates its wrongs, and in every living conscience -in every living conscience- Deir Yassin is reborn. Randa Hamwi Duwaji | 
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