Language of Sorrow
---Dreaming of Palestine The capacity to give one’s attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing; it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. Nearly all those who think they have this capacity do not possess it. Warmth of heart, impulsiveness, pity, are not enough.
---Simone Weil, Waiting for God
I know nothing I know everything I know life I know death my father my mother even my God who are you? where are you? my name means nothing to you and to you the happy souls wide smiles on the other side open your eyes wide wide and see the abyss between us between you and me me and my brothers sisters mother and father whose blood I swim in whose night I wander in whose dreams I continue to dream whose pain I go on tasting whose blood my daily bread since the day I was born the sun was bright as the sun that shone upon you the rain taste sweet just like what you tasted on your red lips but I have no voice my mouth gaped but no sounds coming out no words can reach as far as our common god if there is one his eyes must be fogged by fire by explosives by lies by screams so, what do you know about us? what do you know about me? where do you send me if I am already living in hell? well, you want to get religious? what are you saying? I didn’t want to say anything I didn’t want to be like this like an animal being offered to you watching my family being devoured by your holy appetite your teeth even your teeth shine with words the sweet smell of blood reminds me of who we are there is not enough earth to bury the dead not enough earth to cover the stain since when? when? every tree has roots even after the forest fire every body has a soul even after the pain is gone please take your precious time and think while watching me die I promise I will never crawl into your tv set in your living room never walk into your shinning hall with broken limbs bleeding heart my words too fragmented my thought too naive my smile too painful I will ruin your party so, don’t feel guilty if you don’t know me by names, appearances weight or height there are too many of us a little imagination may help like the broken wings carried me through the night vast bottomless night I found in death death I have learned to embrace death where we both look for hope death where we for the first time are equal I have heard how you all talk about God how much you all love your neighbors how much you love yourselves how much you love your freedom how much you love everything Love that’s what we die for the kind of love you interpret otherwise not hate not anger all by-products of love because you have robbed me slaughtered my dreams my inners torn out my home gone yes this is the way I talk this is the way I think this is the sound of bullets bullets that rain upon my youth on my first love on my elder’s gray hair that means nothing to you this broken speech I come to learn this is the speech of Palestinian youth youth that is spent in fire and we said our prayers in fire whispering to you G-o-d this is the speech I fire back at you : : z.z. 2005 |