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    The Sun InterviewBy Judith HertogTo RemainRaja Shehadeh on Living through Destruction in Palestine

    I have been thinking that people all over the world these days are feeling a sense of despair because, like me, they are seeing the destruction of the world as they knew it. But it has occurred to me that the real destruction of my world happened in 1948, when the Palestinians lost Palestine.

    Distractions
    Readers WriteBy Our ReadersDistractions

    Reading at work, listening to music during labor, swatting gnats while meditating

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Earl Pike

Earl C. Pike lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He has published poetry and fiction locally and nationally, and is currently Outreach Educator with the Minnesota AIDS Project.

Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

A Vietnam Diary

One of the more shocking things about Vietnam is the number of people with serious war-related injuries: a woman with her face half burned away, men without legs, children with significant birth defects due to fetal exposure to Agent Orange, which remained in the food chain long after the fighting had stopped. Yesterday I counted seven people. Today I counted four more.

October 1995
Fiction

The Flood

There was no irrefutable justification for a sentence of genocide. But that was the verdict.

April 1994
Fiction

In My Father’s Arms

My keeper hurled me into the hole, and jumped in after me. She pulled the floorboards back into place, over our heads, and we were engulfed in darkness as the hammering against the front door started. I tried to call out, but her thick arm snaked around my chest, and her calloused palm clamped over my mouth, as the sound of wood splintering, and then crashing, exploded all around us.

July 1991
Fiction

The Path of God

I write that name with hesitation, the pause that accompanies reverence. One does not scribble the name of the Creator casually. One does not toss about the title of the Segmented Deity without a shuddering respect.

June 1991
Fiction

The Testimony Of The Snake

Yessssss: and every snake must slough its skin, leaving a trail of cellular clothing around the forest, or, as it were, this garden.

April 1988
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