for R. H.
One can’t measure up to those who stay seated. Go ahead, flick through the
channels while protests go on in the streets. Raise your fist in the air,
swing it around a bit. If the revolution doesn’t come around this time, surely,
there will be other opportunities. Promise your loved ones the next time
you will be ready, on your feet and among the crowds. Give careful instructions
to the ones who depend on you. Tell your mother not to light the stove. The
couscous can wait. Tell your father not to worry his beads. Bring your baby
brother along, because hope cannot be learned soon enough. Let the talking
heads on Al-Jazeera broadcast to an empty room, to the chair that will still
be warm from where you nested, perhaps just moments before. The one that
will be waiting for your inevitable return.