Debate for Peace

Over the last two months, Israeli and Palestinian students have participated in a student-led writing workshop as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece comes from Jack:

Hey sweaty, get out, don’t be scared. I just came here to talk to you. It might sound crazy, but I know who you are, not in a creepy way. So I wanted to tell you, you’re important. People are mean, but the soonest you’ll realise that you are perfect the way you are, the sooner you’ll be whole.

No, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Let me just tell you a story, like the ones you enjoy writing. Long ago the zebra felt bad for not looking like a tiger. She had many many haircuts and dyed her hair, but nothing helped. You know why? Because it’s the zebra’s nature and she shouldn’t feel bad about it. What she needs to do instead is go talk to someone, because even the black and white that she once had, were no longer the same after keeping all her feelings in her tummy.

Who Am I? Well, just a fairy who came to help. You know, you will some day feel better, even change your name in a few years, and your new name will be Jack. 

Hey, I think it’s time for me to leave, but don’t stop writing, this is your strongest tool.

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 Monique, from Wizo Hadassim

I wonder about……

I wonder why I wonder? Sometimes it seems that there is no point in wondering at all. It is as if everything has already been decided, or has it?

I wonder if the hostages will ever be released, if they are even alive? 

I wonder if the soldiers will be ok? Will they all come home soon? 

I wonder if the innocent people suffering from this war will survive, will life ever be normal for them, or for us? 

I wonder why I need to question everything? I wonder why I don’t have all the answers?

I wonder why people feel so much aggression towards one another, for aren’t we all the same? Weren’t we all given the same rights at birth?

I wonder how the future of my children will look, or my students or even my own? 

I wonder if they will be happy and live lives full of love, happiness and satisfaction?

I wonder why I or anyone around me has doubts, regrets or shame?  

I wonder why I let others make decisions for me, in the government or my place of employment? Don’t I have free will? And if I do, why am I not using it?

I wonder why our creator made us suffer and celebrate, love and hate, think and feel? Or did they? 

I wonder if man has made all of their own problems and no higher being has any connection to it? 

I wonder about everything and nothing. Does anyone really know anything at all?

I wonder?

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

I wonder,

I wonder If I could be someone else

in the mirror of your eyes.

Erase the lines I’ve drawn with pain.

The warm memories seem to be so cold,

their glow turning into shadows.

a chill settling where the music once lived.

You see me now,

as a headache pulsing in your temples

a cockroach scurrying beneath the light

an itching sweater clinging to skin

I am everything you despise.

It hurts,

the way the sparkles in your eyes 

dim and scatter like ashes

each time I speak.

And I wonder if an old broken record 

once you loved to hear

can ever be more than

something you’d rather throw away.

Over the last two months, Israeli and Palestinian students have participated in a student-led writing workshop as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece comes from Margarita:

I wonder how friends’ connection work

I wonder why we love and why we hate 

why our hearts feel pain and they love

why people trust and why do they believe   

I wonder how our hearts decide 

The quantity of feelings that we want 

To share or to hide

 the truth we want to realize 

and truth that we ignore throughout our lives 

I wonder how friends’ connection work

And I wonder who loves me in this world

Over the last two months, Israeli and Palestinian students have participated in a student-led writing workshop as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece comes from Arielle:

I Am From
I am from sadness and anger.
I am from hurting and suffering.
I am from my mother, who many say I look alike.
I have her hair and I have her spirit.
She always finishes first and so must I.
Not because she told me so, but because that is how I think.
I am from my father, who is kind but angry.
He lashes out and sometimes I am afraid I might do the same.
Sometimes he cares, and I try my hardest.
I do not have their eyes.
Theirs are green, the color of life and the color of our world. The plants that give us life and support us. They are what help us breathe and eat. Green provides.
My eyes are brown, the color of the dirt beneath graves and underneath our feet. The dirt we walk on every day without giving it a single thought.
I am from sadness and anger.
I am from hurting and suffering.
I am from myself, but sometimes I wish I wasn’t.

Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents met to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece comes from Sanskriti in Rwanda, and is titled “Secret Beneath the Waves”.

Secret beneath the waves. 

The ocean is quite deep, a slumbering sleep,

Resting our secrets and letting our wonders seep.

Beasts of bizarre look, with glistening eyes, 

Slide through, in nooks and watery lies. 

Towers of corals built strong and tall, 

Dwindling in oceans of jeweled walls. 

Haunted remains of ships, while ghostly stories remain concealing, 

That avalanches of civilizations pried over, but no relics were freeing. 

The ocean whispers such despondent sorrow song, 

And it bears more, in memory as it’s a billion years strong. 

Ones who are bold, unlike the rest, 

Are in wait of a treasure that pulses through its chest. 

Finding those who belong to this place,

Only good fights in the honor of grace.

As part of the Writers Matter program, teachers from about twenty schools around Israel wrote and shared their writing together. The following piece is called “Finding Light in the Darkness”, and comes from Shatha, from Ort Ma’alot High School.

Finding Light in the Darkness

I wish that a lot of my life was fictional. 

Where war is a forgotten myth and happiness is an achievable dream. 

Where I don’t hate my army husband’s job or loathe the time we are forced apart. 

I wish that a lot of my life was a fantasy story, where I am the protagonist, picking daisies in a field and not waiting for the sounding of death knells and the beckoning of ruin. 

But,

I live in the real world. 

Where the sound of him coming home is like a soft caress on my heart. 

And despite the weariness on his face and the feel of his sinking cheeks in my hands, he is healthy and whole. 

I live in the real world. 

Where I wonder if it was the right choice to be pregnant at a time like this. 

Where all I think about is the guilt I would have if my daughter is angry at me for bringing her to a world where hate and violence is the language we speak. 

Where all I thought about is having a piece of him if anything went awry. 

Because I want to see his nose, and his lips and his eyes. His thick charcoal lashes and his wit and laughter. 

I want to see them on her face, in her features, when I look at her. When I hear her voice. 

I live in the real world, you see. 

I live in the real world. 

Where, despite the darkness, we need to look for the light. 

Where his laughter, his voice, his smell are what bring me comfort. 

Where waiting 8 long years to hear the words “congrats, you’re having a baby girl” is what brings tears to my eyes. 

Where anticipating being a mom and a dad overrules what feels like a ticking of a clock. 

We live in the real world. 

Where light should always be found, even in the darkest of days.

Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents met to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece comes from Noam in Malmo, Sweden, and is about a song that inspires or moves the writer.

I feel like a Starman, inspired by David Bowie’s song.
Every time I  hear it, I’m filled with happiness and hope . The music calms me, helps me focus, and sends a warm tingle through my stomach. When “Starman” plays, I feel untouchable, as though the music creates a protective barrier around me, making anything seem possible. I’m not sure whether it’s the catchy strumming guitar or his unique, bewitching voice, but regardless, it conveys a magical message about freedom and following your heart. Bowie’s Starman offers salvation from the feeling of being locked in, trapped by societal norms. It’s a magical spell that frees you to let loose—just as Bowie did with his alter ego, Ziggy Stardust. 

As the Starman said: “let the children lose it, let children use it, let all the children boogie”. These words urge us to be aliens, to reject the norms and structures of the adult world, and create our own paths. Thanks to Bowie’s Starman, countless young people have been inspired to embrace their true selves, to express their values and thoughts, and to challenge an already corrupt society. 

Thanks to Bowie, I too, am a Starman—embracing my true self and finding freedom in his music.

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 Sassie, from Yachad Modi’in

Where I Am Now:

I fear we are in a deep and dark tunnel

Being led by monsters who

Do not want what is best for our people.

But I try to hold on to hope.

Some days when I wake up

I feel like I cannot breathe.

It is claustrophobic down here, 

There is no air.

I am hungry and thirsty,

I long to embrace my friends and family.

I feel bugs crawl on me, I’m dirty,

I want to see the light of day.

The outside world cannot hear our cries

With their loud cries for freedom and peace

They have no idea that we all are being held captive

We all are in the dark.

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 Doga in Turkey.

I am from

I am from love and hatred

I am from the thoughts of my own mind,

Thinking “you’ll never be enough”

I am from “leaving!” and “coming back!”,

If you stay, you’re stupid, if you leave, cruel

I am from the answer, self evident 

I am from water and fire,

Trying to balance in this conflict

I am from a life full of contrast,

Hearing “she was way better”

I am from being told to behave well

“Behave yourself, like a woman!”

I am, at times, from scratch and sometimes reminiscence

Running to my future,

But still stuck in my past

I am from learning to let go

Holding on tight is brutal

I am from my own faults,

From imperfectly perfect

Reminding me my humanity

I am from people always judging me,

When all they know is my name

I am from having to hide my emotions,

Thinking i might as well not get hurt

I am from a place where everything is faked

Until it’s made

I am from a plot twist,

Because uncertainty can’t be judged