I give up, I say
to the Palestinian boy holding his breath
beneath the ripples of a branch
of the Litani river.
I tap his shoulder
and rise to the surface early, my chest
half full of oxygen.
I could have outlasted him.
I give up, I say.
But really
I let him win.
Victorious, he grins.
without knowing
I’ve looked out
of rain-washed windows
and wept over an impossible love.
I’ve tried with others to end the brutality of wars
and find fullness in a life
that leaves us all empty handed in one way or another.
Someone ought to triumph
in a landslide
Someone ought to smile
and gasp with delight
for a small victory almost worth dying for.
I give up, I say to the child
(though I haven’t really).
You win.
You’re it.
Photo by Mohammed Ibrahim on Unsplash




