On the mountain he once came face-to-face with a dark falcon riding low on the thermals, wind whooshing through his feathers, and felt one with him, felt peace, as though just by watching the great bird, just by following his example, he could stretch his arms and lift his feet from the ground. Should he talk about the days after he ran into the mountains, about feeling surrounded, even in that barren place, by life? About the plants that seemed to vibrate with it? Butterflies and rock mice and ants and caterpillars and snow hare and everything he looked at, even the stones, seemed alive.

Or should he talk aboutand this was what he found to be the odd thingthe blessing of it? The surprise of finding himself alive, finding himself connected to life. Should he talk about his shaking hands, his trembling limbs, the ringing sound in his ear, his blurred vision? Should he describe his physical injuries, show him his wounds, the rudimentary stitches, now nearly ready to be removed, underneath the bandage on his forearm? Should he discuss the numerous times, after he fled into the mountains surrounding the village, that he stood at the cliff edge, wind rushing up into his face, and nearly felt himself take a step off, unconcerned whether he fell or flew? His first instinct was to play it off, to make a grim joke of itthe house was getting old anyway destruction as a form of camouflage at least now we dont have to maintain the roofanything to deflect the course of the inquiry.īut this would not do, he sensed, not with this man who sat across from him, this friendly man with his placid, expectant face. 'It must be so difficult,' said the man, whose face was serene, 'to wake up one morning and see that life as you knew it has ended, that so much has been destroyed.'ĭespite his youth, Younis sensed immediately that the man was trying to get him to do something dangerous. Just to see if he needed help, to see if he could be helped. They sat across from each other in cheap plastic chairs beside a bomb-scarred house that served temporarily as a hospital.

What is it like to lose everything? Younis was first asked this question by a well-meaning development worker, a friendly young man whose specialty was working in war zones.

The Book of Jonas by Stephen Dau