So, I’ve been neglecting my blog again.
There have been lots of things over the last few weeks I’ve wanted to write about, including the refugee camps, a trip to Jenin and graffitiing a security wall, but I have to be honest with myself and admit that I’ve run out of time in writing all this up before I go home. (I am heading home on Tuesday.)
In some ways, this is maybe no bad thing. I’ve also intended, as I said before, to write about my take on Islam and my opinions on the political situation over here, but I don’t really know where to start with either of these things. (It’s fair to say there’s been a lot I haven’t said so far.) Maybe the opportunity to return home and reflect on what I’ve learnt might make the words come a wee bit easier.
But, for now, my focus is on leaving.
I’m sorry to be leaving, upset that an experience that has meant so much to me is coming to an end, sad to be leaving Palestine and its people behind, dreading saying goodbye to so many friends.
Other than that, it’s hard to sum up all that I’m feeling right now, so I’ll just end this post with a poem I wrote a few weeks ago.
NABLUS, NOVEMBER 2010
I don’t want to go home. Not yet. But I must.
I have people to see, hugs to give, stories to tell.
But I love it here, and I know that when I leave
it will feel like leaving a part of myself behind,
like saying goodbye to a loved one I know I
may never see again.
And what will home be like? Will it have changed
as much as I have changed? Will my new perspective
show me ugly truths where once there was just the
comfort of my everyday landscape? And will I still
have as much love to give the people back home,
or will I have invested too much affection in
this land, these people?
