Language of Sorrow

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