Gaza is not Deir Yassin, and it never will be – Mondoweiss

My grandmother navigated life with sumud — steadfastness — as her compass. The translucent blue veins of her hands were lines on a map leading me home. Her scars were the indelible ink that told stories of grief so deep the stones wept. 

Her village was renowned for its quarried stones. Today, its foundation stones are mortared with the anguished generations of blood, bones, and flesh. Surrounding the village is a forest of non-native pine trees planted in soil irrigated with…