Posts Tagged ‘ syria ’

Poem on Syria: Putrefaction

of late

I’ve had this thought

that this country

has gone backwards

4 or 5 decades

and that all the

social advancement

the good feeling of

person toward

person

has been washed

away

and replaced by the same

old

bigotries

 

We have more than ever

the selfish wants of power

the disregard for the weak

the old

the impoverished

the helpless.

 

We are replacing want with war

salvation with slavery

we have wasted the gains

we have become rapidly

less

 

we have our Bomb

it is our fear

our damnation

and our

shame

 

now

something so sad

has hold of us

that

the breath

leaves

and we can’t even

cry

 

— Charles Bukowski, who rarely capitalized words.

For Syria

Listen to: Goldmund – Threnody

I weep the beloved country, for it celebrates martyrs that have gone too soon. It lets out a scream and although we all hear it, see it, and witness it, we cannot feel its loudness through exile. The boy who cried revolution lays untouched beneath ashes of his own home. Now, he is warm and wrapped in the embrace of heavens above. He looks down upon us in hope, while we look up in tears and pray.

It has been a year and I swear, I cannot fathom how for everyday throughout these 365 days a soul has left us due to injustice. Every asylum I seek for emotional comfort is closed for repairs. My country is dying. My people are starving. I am losing my sanity, one body at a time, one cry of help at a time.

Bless their souls, be they forgotten beneath rubble, or buried amidst gunshots. They are dead, but never gone. Their chants echo across a blind universe that is bound to wake up soon. And when it does, I will nurse you to sleep my fallen kingdom of hopes. I will shelter you within my dreams and I will save you for myself, all to me, because I am selfish when it comes to you. I am your child and you are my land, my holy red land that died while resting on my lap. I will bury you, just as I buried your different flags, your martyrs and my tears. Within my forsaken silence.. I will bury you.

I let my guard down and have failed you, my beloved country. I have failed your weeping children; I have failed your widowed wives and husbands; I have failed your unborn children that never saw the light of day and died in their mother’s womb. I have failed you. I am at loss of words, for silence has taken the best of me.

Nothingness; numbness; blank. Statistics; rivers of blood; cloudy skies; obscure future; Syria; the unknown. وهل للوطن بديل؟

In memory of those who died during the Hama Massacre.

In memory of those who died during the Hama Massacre. It saddens me to share a birthday with such a dreaded event that took away thousands of my people’s lives. Today, I celebrate courage and honor-ship of my people. Today is a reason to rise in pride, not wallow in tears.  

Listen to: No audio. To the sound of martyrs, for they whisper.

You, who stole my country’s bread,
You, who killed my people,
Come,
Take me instead,
Come,
For you I have scarified my neck,
You, who tore down my signs,
You, who filled my land with mines,
Come,
Come to me,
Endanger me,
Leave them and just come,

You, who laughs at the blood streams of martyrs,
You, who dismantles the bodies of the dead,
Let them rest in peace and just come,
Rip my heart instead,
Tear down my dreams and rest,
You, who stole my country in bed,
Would you like some tea with that?
Perhaps a lemon squeeze in jest,

You, who promised and lied,
Will you ever leave undone?
You, who thousands at his own hands died,
You never seem to come,
Yet behind children caskets you hide,

You, whose heart in stone is engraved,
Would you please not disturb their shallow graves?
Come if you choose to be late,
Control whoever you may,
Untouchable is fate.

On your knees, yet you stand,
posing behind a brave man,
Crimson stained hands,
Nationless land,
Must you not understand?

You have not come,
And I shall not bow,
As long as I live,
As ever as I am dead,
I will not bow
I will not bow