Kim A Jensen
Summer 2024 | Poetry
Watch in Full [i]
a documentary poem
On January 11, 2024, South Africa opened its historic genocide case against Israel in the International Court of Justice at the Hague.
1.
If my insides were visible through the pores of my eyes if the curtains drawn wide the panes
cleared if I wasn’t crying so much if I hadn’t lost sight the witness in the mirror could see
I am not dancing I’m shaking like a vessel rattled by the burning matter it was made to carry
2.
Here there are no corpses only stories here nothing explodes
in the sky above hollow shopping malls glazed with rain in America
most white people over the age of sixty won’t take my flyer they don’t want the information
I assure you the facts before the court today are even more stark even high school girls
with nose rings from Claire’s want to know what’s happening with their tax dollars
3.
More stark more shocking more rapid more alarming more brutal than what
we’ve seen in history if you can imagine frighteningly unprecedented in my dream I said
I never knew a graveyard could be that large granite headstones for miles entire cities
in ruins upon waking I jot snippets of the proceedings care not available genocidal intent evident
large scale homicidal destruction homes schools mosques churches hospitals incontrovertible
decomposing bodies left where they were killed slow excruciating deaths trapped under the rubble
4.
Incontrovertible we have the footage we have the statements the evidence the precedent
the motive the means the intent the record the plans the weapons the casings the burns the
unmedicated amputations we know who made the first-degree decision to cut off water food
fuel aid medicine everything that makes human life possible a few weeks in November and a whole
city is leveled a sky should be punctuated only by clouds
so you can see how far it goes
5.
This season has been an X populated by shadows the number of children who will never
be born genetic codes that won’t travel on[ii] trees that won’t sift the sun into smaller
and smaller particles the catalogue of things that can’t be counted weddings quarrels couches
roses limbs books rabbits poets and their fragments[iii] newborns whose hearts stopped the
business as usual that could not be (stopped) two words we will never
be able to say again [never again] the headcount of those who bear witness
the relative few who will watch in full
6.
Whoever stays until the end will tell the story[iv]
[i] Watch in full: First day of ICJ hearings in South Africa's genocide case against Israel in Gaza
[ii] According to a joint statement by 70 UN Ambassadors in November more than “50 entire families have been
wiped off the population registry in Gaza.”
[iii] Poets and writers killed in Gaza: https://lithub.com/these-are-the-poets-and-writers-who-have-been-killed-in-gaza/
[iv] “These words were written by Dr. Mahmoud Abu Nujaila on a whiteboard normally used for planning surgeries. Working with Doctors Without Borders (Medecins Sans Frontieres — MSF UK), he was killed by a strike on Al Awda Hospital in northern Gaza on November 21st. The same strike killed another MSF doctor, Dr. Ahmad Al Sahar, as well as Dr. Ziad Al-Tatari, a doctor working with Al Awda. Other medical staff were severely injured.”
Kim Jensen is a Baltimore-based writer, poet, educator, and translator who has lived in California, France, and Palestine. Her experimental novel, The Woman I Left Behind, about a turbulent love affair between a young US student and a Palestinian refugee was a finalist for Forward Magazine’s book of the year. Her two collections of poems, Bread Alone and The Only Thing that Matters were published by Syracuse University Press. Active in transnational peace and social justice movements for decades, Kim’s work has been featured or is forthcoming in Gulf Coast, Anthropocene, Modern Poetry in Translation, Decolonial Passage, Transition, Anomaly, International Human Rights Arts Festival, Another Chicago Magazine, Electronic Intifada, Mondoweiss, Extraordinary Rendition: Writers Speak Out on Palestine, Gaza Unsilenced, Bomb Magazine, Sukoon, Mizna, Revista el Humo, Left Curve, Liberation Literature, and many others. In 2001, she won the Raymond Carver Award for short fiction. Kim is currently Professor of English and Creative Writing at the Community College of Baltimore County, where she co-founded an interdisciplinary literacy initiative that demonstrates the vital connection between classroom learning and social justice in the broader community.