Between the Grapevines

20. 'Ishrun

It was Farhan who turned toward him with a hard expression, his brows knit ever so slightly when he spoke. "Wipe your tears. You are a man," he stood before the boy.

"We are all on the path to martyrdom. We are The Resistance. Hamza is not the first nor the last of us to be killed. By God's will, we will see the victory and freedom of our people or we will die fighting for it. We are the men of this country. You and I are only pawns in a greater mission and we thank God for the honor he's bestowed upon us. Say Alhamdullilah!"

Amer wiped his tears even as more fell in their place. "Alhamdullilah."

"That's right," Farhan grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Find solace in what Rasool Allahsaid, ya Amer. Nobody in this world dies and wishes to return except the martyr. The martyr wishes to come back and be killed a thousand times because of the honor he receives from his Lord. Hamza is a martyr so pray that God accepts his sacrifice and continue moving forward. By God's will, let us all die a death as honorable as his."

Amer nodded, wiping more tears as Farhan tugged him forward by his neck, offering one more comforting pat on his back before moving away. Still, he remained near Hamza's grave.

Riyad shifted closer. "Say God is one."

"La illah ila Allah," Amer nodded. His gaze did not move from the loose soil as the rain fell over it. "Will it get easier? His death?"

Riyad took a deep breath, unsure how to respond. But he'd never been the kind to lie to soften the reality of a situation. "Has the death of your family gotten easier?" he asked.

Amer lifted his eyes to meet Riyad's, shaking his head.

"It will continue to hurt your heart and you should allow it to. Never let your heart harden, yaAmer. As long as our hearts remain soft and continue to be broken by the injustice against our brothers and sisters, our will to resist remains steady and strong."

The words drew a shaky sigh from Amer's lips.

Riyad remained with him until Amer finally left the side of Hamza's fresh grave, following the others back to camp. The silence brought with it the memory of every grave Riyad had stood beside then led him to the only grave he'd never been able to pray alongside.

It had been raining then too.

That evening, as droplets of rain fell from the heavens, Riyad stood on one side of the prison's courtyard while his brother met his gaze from the other. The eldest brother's gaze caught on the soldiers standing in the corner, watching him, awaiting a reaction now that they'd revealed the face of his brother. But he remained still. Any reaction of basic human emotion was defined to the Occupational Soldiers as one of weakness and cowardice. They did not see Riyad and his people as human so their pain did not resonate with their humanity. It entertained them.

Radi's eyes found his brother's over the rope they tied around his neck. For a moment, they became overrun with hope and desperation but the moment the child peered over the guarding soldiers, it seemed to click for him that his brother would not be able to save him this time. So his expression changed.

He rolled his lips into a thin line and held his brother's gaze, his eyes no longer pleading for rescue. Riyad clenched his jaw to keep his emotions from revealing themselves on his features, his chest tightening at the acceptance that soothed his younger brother's previous pout. From where he stood, Riyad could see the deep breath Radi pulled in, a flicker of nervousness fluttering over his eyes when they tightened the noose around the delicate skin of his neck.

Even as the rope pinched his skin and the cold rain wet his clothes, the little boy found comfort in his brother's presence. In that moment, Riyad did not see the young brother of his who had still not hit the age of adolescence, he saw what all the imprisoned men around him saw.