I am reading this and it's morning here and I don't know how I will carry on with the rest of the day after reading this. Your words are powerful, Jodi. Thank you for writing them
Thank you for these words that describe reality in such a painful and honest way. Sometimes language itself can be deprived of its meaning when human beings are deprived of their humanity.
Thank you for connecting us all! I sent the letter below yesterday. Very grateful for Nadera’s words. Will keep sharing 💜
Dear Mr. Carney, Ms. Anand, and Ms. Bendayan,
I hope this message finds you well.
I am writing to share a poem by a young poet from Gaza, Nadera Mushtha, a student whose work I had the privilege of hearing during an online reading with poets from around the world, many of them from Gaza.
I invite you to read her poem below and to reflect on the humanity of those who continue to be killed each day, including during periods of ceasefire, under ongoing occupation.
I am deeply concerned by the continued bombing of homes and the reported targeting of children. These events are widely documented and circulated, yet Canada has not issued a clear condemnation. These war crimes are now happening to civilians in Lebanon and Iran as well.
I am also concerned by reports that Canada has acted to block or limit Palestinian football officials’ participation at FIFA, which raises further questions about fairness, representation, and equal treatment on the international stage.
Even among allies, there must be accountability. I respectfully urge you to call on Israel and the United States to uphold their obligations under international law.
I also urge you to reconsider Canada’s role in the supply of weapons in this context.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Jodi Proctor
Before the Roof Fell
by Nadera Mushtha
Once upon a time
there were ordinary mornings,
cars driving along the seaside,
sunbirds singing from the tops of trees
and doves swaying between the clouds.
Here was a sea full of fish
and a place filled with people.
A woman stood, unsure,
wanting to choose what was most delicious
to bring for her daughter’s henna party.
Falafel, za’atar and zaytoon
sat in dishes on tables above the golden sand
of our beach, for a family and other friends
watching the fishermen,
their boats rocking in the waves.
There were students
walking to school,
sometimes under the rain
and sometimes
beneath the blossoms of trees,
as the voice of Fairuz floated
from car windows.
There were girls listening to the morning songs
and children laughing
as they crossed the roads.
The smell of coffee danced in the air,
bread, qirshalla and cakes.
A wide, white window
and an elder tending his plants.
A grove of olive and orange trees,
a woman collecting grape leaves,
a string of rainbow-colored lights
hanging between the walls
while men, boys and girls danced dabka
around long tables of grilled meat, maftoul and fatta
No words, Jodi... what a mess we've made of the world. May voices that need to be heard find amplification and respect. Thanks for writing this.
Thank you Rajani 🙏
I am reading this and it's morning here and I don't know how I will carry on with the rest of the day after reading this. Your words are powerful, Jodi. Thank you for writing them
Thank you for reading Naz ❤️🩹
Thank you for these words that describe reality in such a painful and honest way. Sometimes language itself can be deprived of its meaning when human beings are deprived of their humanity.
Thank you so much for your time and care in putting this together, Jodi! And your poem has heartbreaking clarity, thank you for writing it. 🫂
Thank you for connecting us all! I sent the letter below yesterday. Very grateful for Nadera’s words. Will keep sharing 💜
Dear Mr. Carney, Ms. Anand, and Ms. Bendayan,
I hope this message finds you well.
I am writing to share a poem by a young poet from Gaza, Nadera Mushtha, a student whose work I had the privilege of hearing during an online reading with poets from around the world, many of them from Gaza.
I invite you to read her poem below and to reflect on the humanity of those who continue to be killed each day, including during periods of ceasefire, under ongoing occupation.
I am deeply concerned by the continued bombing of homes and the reported targeting of children. These events are widely documented and circulated, yet Canada has not issued a clear condemnation. These war crimes are now happening to civilians in Lebanon and Iran as well.
I am also concerned by reports that Canada has acted to block or limit Palestinian football officials’ participation at FIFA, which raises further questions about fairness, representation, and equal treatment on the international stage.
Even among allies, there must be accountability. I respectfully urge you to call on Israel and the United States to uphold their obligations under international law.
I also urge you to reconsider Canada’s role in the supply of weapons in this context.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Jodi Proctor
Before the Roof Fell
by Nadera Mushtha
Once upon a time
there were ordinary mornings,
cars driving along the seaside,
sunbirds singing from the tops of trees
and doves swaying between the clouds.
Here was a sea full of fish
and a place filled with people.
A woman stood, unsure,
wanting to choose what was most delicious
to bring for her daughter’s henna party.
Falafel, za’atar and zaytoon
sat in dishes on tables above the golden sand
of our beach, for a family and other friends
watching the fishermen,
their boats rocking in the waves.
There were students
walking to school,
sometimes under the rain
and sometimes
beneath the blossoms of trees,
as the voice of Fairuz floated
from car windows.
There were girls listening to the morning songs
and children laughing
as they crossed the roads.
The smell of coffee danced in the air,
bread, qirshalla and cakes.
A wide, white window
and an elder tending his plants.
A grove of olive and orange trees,
a woman collecting grape leaves,
a string of rainbow-colored lights
hanging between the walls
while men, boys and girls danced dabka
around long tables of grilled meat, maftoul and fatta
for a neighbor’s wedding.
We laughed, we joked, we embraced,
and our grandparents smiled
as they watched us
playing games, taking pictures,
gathering under one roof, together.
Then night came
and catastrophe fell upon us all.
In truth, it started in the morning,
but in our hearts it was a dark night.
Our beach now is empty.
No birds,
no natural clouds,
no trees,
no homes,
no families,
no grandmothers.
They targeted the roof
that once sheltered us all.
Jodi, in our next poetry/yoga meeting I want to brainstorm some ideas with you on how I may use my voice as an Israeli to join this fight.
Your letter and support has brought me to tears, Jodi. Thank you for speaking out!! May these words reach their hearts.
Just appalling...
Thank you for posting this Jodi. I am restacking it.
Best Wishes - Dave
Thank you for sharing Dave. 🖤
I’m going to send a poem by a Palestinian poet to a Canadian politician every day this week.
🙏
Incredible poem, Jodi and the poetry reading still has me reflecting on the power of poetry and our shared humanity (and cruelty) 💔💛
Thank you Holly! Same. ❤️🩹