To My Sisters in Iraq

You’re my sister.
Here’s my hand.
Your hands are dirty with dust and grime and blood.
My hands are dirty with ignorance and indifference and shame.
You live in a shipping container.
You’re trying to survive your ninth birthday.
I remember my ninth birthday. I ate popcorn with a friend.
Your friends wish they didn’t have a ninth birthday.
ISIS doesn’t make popcorn. They don’t throw birthday parties.
They steal from you. They kill your family. They destroy your life.
They’re coming.
What will you do?
Your dad is dead.
It’s my dad’s birthday today.
You cry tears I can’t understand,
But I can hear you;
I can hear your mom wailing.
Your tears are coming down from the sky today.
You’re my sister.
Here’s my hand.
It’s open to catch those tears,
To clutch your hand,
To tell you we’re coming, too,
Because you’re our sister.
We hear you.
Here’s our hand.

Inspired by Ann Voskamp’s charge to the North American Church.

You can help restore the lives of our Iraqi sisters by donating to Preemptive Love. Love first, ask questions later.


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