Debate for Peace

As part of the Writers Matter program, teachers from about twenty schools around Israel wrote and shared their writing together. The following piece is part of the “I Am From” collection, and comes from Julia, from the Darca Begin high school in Gedera.

I am from generations before me, going further back than I know, and still discovering bits of information like hidden treasure.

I am from strong opinionated people, not afraid of following their hearts and minds.

I am from comfort food, celebration food and finish-that-plate-no-matter-what food.

I am from foreign tongues, which still pluck at the heartstrings despite fading away. 

I am from hardship, struggle, ancient hate and subsequent escape. And yet I am also from optimism, positivity, multiculturalism and hope.

I am from a new land, bright, shiny and hopeful, somewhat naive – but sometimes too light.

I am no less from an ancient land, rooted, complicated and beautiful, somewhat cynical –  but sometimes too heavy.

I am from finding that balance, day in and day out.

Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents have been meeting to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece is part of the “I Wonder” collection, and comes from Lamija in Sarajevo.

A Song that Moves Me

I do not have a favorite song, just as I do not have a favorite animal, color, or plushie.

Things simply happen. Sometimes, they meet your expectations; other times, they happen when you least expect them. Fear and love might be connected there, but in my life, everything feels unexpected; just like that evening.

Sitting on the shore with a notebook in my hands, writing and drawing. Sun was setting, when I heard a light breeze of jazz. My heart skipped a beat… The pen started moving on its own.

A couple was dancing, coming to life, when suddenly, a tap on my shoulder asked for the same dance.

Listening to those playful notes, staring into hazel eyes, unclear face,  and swaying to the breeze of jazz, we ended with Chopin’s waltz on that sweet, sweet night.

P.S. Chopin’s waltz was never meant for dancing.

Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents have been meeting to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece is part of the “I Wonder” collection, and comes from Endina in Kosovo.

I wonder

I wonder, when you look into my eyes,

do you see the pain or does it fade away, like a moth to the flame?

Really, tell me, do you feel the same?

It’ s a hard thing to say but I can’t help but think.

But no, you won’t tell me. Is that right? Why? I can’t figure it out.

Whether you love it or hate it, you should have stayed. That’s what I wonder when the storm comes rushing in.

You know I wonder what would happen if I quit because the game it’s starting to lose it’s grip.

And yet, I still find myself drawn to it, waiting for my dreams, though I know they don’t fit.

Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents have been meeting to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece is part of the “I am from” collection, and comes from Duru in Turkey.

When I was little I liked to imagine that I came from a place that’s filled with rainbows and unicorns where the sun never set. In reality I come from a place where the sun only comes up once in a while. I don’t know why I didn’t like the place I came from as a kid. Every night we ate dinner together. Sometimes that dinner table was filled with laughter and joy. But sometimes it was filled with silence cutting through the air like a knife. We used to play games or watch movies once in a while. I remember loving the time I spent with the people that make me who I am today. But now I barely see them. I can’t recognize where I come from, let alone the people whom I love the most. 

I didn’t appreciate the good times back then and only focused on the bad stuff that led me to want only good things to happen. But what I hadn’t realized was that, in order to have a rainbow you need the rain too. Since I know that now, I can easily tell you where I come from. I come from a family that’s loving and caring where everyone looks out for each other. I come from a household that’s filled with fights and arguments that took days and months to be forgotten. I come from a place warmer than any sun could ever make me feel. 

Now I’m proud of where I come from and the person that I have become.

Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents have been meeting to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece is part of the “Where I am now” collection, and comes from Nahla in Kenya.

Nahla

Where I am now

I look at myself in the mirror. A pretty smile. A pretty face. A scarless skin. I am a happy girl who loves where she is.

My achievements are what make me happy. I am moving towards my goal; being independent. I am now taking small and large steps to my independence era. I am proud of who I am becoming.

At last I can walk straight and say I am me. I am who I am. I am myself. I am who I want to be.

As part of the Writers Matter program, teachers from about twenty schools around Israel wrote and shared their writing together. The following piece is part of the “I Am From” collection, and comes from Abeer, from the Ibn Al-Haitham high school in Baqa al-Gharabiya.

I am from names that draw suspicion,

Where faith is met with cautious glances,

A heritage woven in rich tapestry,

Yet tangled in the threads of fear.

I am from streets marked by divisions,

Where prayer and culture clash like storms,

Each belief a barrier, each word a weapon,

And my heart aches to bridge the divide.

I am from stories of ancestors whispered,

Their hopes wrapped in sacred traditions,

Yet here I stand, caught in the crossfire,

Identity pulled like a fraying seam.

I am from gatherings filled with warmth,

Laughter rising above the quiet doubts,

But outside, the world is a weighty silence,

Judgment cast like shadows at dusk.

I am from the fire of shared humanity,

Uniting in struggle against the tide,

Finding solace in the common thread,

Where love can flourish, unbound by fear.

I am from the resilience of my people,

A chorus rising to reclaim our place,

With every heartbeat, we break the silence,

Together, we weave a brighter space.

Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents have been meeting to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece is part of the “I Am From” collection, and comes from Amina in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina.

I want to escape it. I want to run away from it. It makes me sick and scared and it’s following me wherever I go. All I see are blurry lines and a vague vision of what the world could be, but it keeps spinning and nothing is clear. People and places are blurry and I’m only sure of what I feel. The breeze that so graciously feeds my brain and the hand that holds me tight . The rain that washes over my face and the salty tears that flow with it. The kiss from a human and the kiss from the sun . The ground that keeps me from flying and the bed that keeps me from dreaming. The stories that I fall asleep to and more so the ones that wake me up. I feel the cold that gives me illness and the warmth that makes me dizzy. I feel the people that I hold and the words that they give me. I feel it because it’s real and it’s real because I made it that way. I am from the fear of making nothing real. From spinning on this ride until my body is left alone, and my soul is wondering. Wondering why am I running away. Why can’t I sit with it? Why does nothing make me so scared and I yearn for something, anything? But when I lay my head on the cold ground and close my eyes forever, I’ll see that the world is steady and I was the one spinning. Nothing is very clear and real now and it’s my comfort because I know it. We all return to what we know. I am from nothing, and to that I return.

As part of the Writers Matter program, teachers from about twenty schools around Israel wrote and shared their writing together. The following piece is part of the “I Wonder” collection, and comes from Inna, from the WIZO Hadassim school in Even Yehuda.

I Wonder

Your tender cheek upon my cheek

your lips touching my face

it’s early morning, I’m asleep

you’re next to me, my boy.

Charmed by your vigorous physique

your ever-growing might

I wonder what adventures you will seek

I wonder what you will be like.

Will you be able to withstand

the filth, the pain and the abuse

which you’ll find hard to understand,

and will the muscles of your heart

shrink out of sorrow for this land

when death of a beloved friend

you will experience firsthand.

I wonder how you’ll cope with that.

The southern wind is dying now

it’s been a long, hot day

I’m finishing a cup of wine,

the mind going astray.

And I’m not whining, not at all

just trying to find a way

to settle remnants of the light

with dark that gets its prey.

It’s midnight, I am on the rack

all this to no avail

I wonder whether they come back

and are we to prevail.

I wonder if I’ve still the strength

to navigate this sail

and looking at my sleeping son

I know I cannot fail.