An open letter ​is an unloved thing. Written by committee and in haste, it is a monument to compromise. In the last seven months, there have been many open letters on Gaza. I have signed some of them.

Nestled in his father’s arms, a bird afraid of the hell above him, Mohammad prays: Father, protect me from flying. My wing is weak against the wind, and the light is black.

Mohammad wants...

I remember al-Sayyab,* his futile cries across the Gulf: ‘Iraq, Iraq, nothing but Iraq,’ And nothing answers but an echo. I remember al-Sayyab under these same Sumerian skies Where a...