The Hunger That Food Couldn't Fix
Sometimes, the deepest wounds don't come from a single loud event. They come from the absence of something small. A hand on a shoulder. Being asked if you slept well.
This is a poem from the very first chapter of my book, I Wrote So I Would Not Fade. It introduces a boy named John.
It doesn't tell you what broke him. It only tells you what he was missing.
"What John Missed
No one noticed how carefully he walked.
How softly he closed doors. How quickly he learned that silence could keep a room calm.
Other children returned home loudly. Throwing bags to the floor. Asking what smelled good in the kitchen. Calling for their mothers before even taking off their shoes.
John entered like a guest who stayed too long.
He missed small things.
Someone brushing dust from his hair. A hand resting briefly on his shoulder. Being asked if he slept well. A voice saying: “You can rest now.”
He missed the kind of hunger that food could fix.
At school, he watched other boys complain about ordinary things— loud siblings, early curfews, chores— and felt something strange inside him.
Not jealousy.
Something quieter.
Like standing outside a house in winter watching light exist through the windows.
At night, he memorized sounds.
The mood in footsteps. The meaning of silence. The distance between anger and danger.
No child should know those things.
No child should feel relief when nobody speaks to him. And still— there were moments he carried secretly.
The smell of rain on dry earth. A breeze through the curtains. The call to prayer far away at sunset. One good teacher. One friend who sat beside him quietly without asking questions.
Small mercies.
Tiny lights the darkness could not fully swallow.
Sometimes, that is all a childhood leaves behind:
Not happiness.
Just a few gentle things surviving the fire."
If you know the feeling of watching the light from the outside—if you know what it means to memorize the meaning of silence—you will find the rest of John's story in the book.
I Wrote So I Would Not Fade is available now in eBook format.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H29YKV2L
(If you want to support my ongoing medical treatment and help me continue writing, you can find other ways to support here: https://linktr.ee/Jean.Hatoum)
I’m not finished surviving out loud. 🕊️

Comments
Post a Comment