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Friday, July 29, 2016

The Good Old Days

I often lose my way in the big city,
and then, I miss home
the good old way I knew very well. 

I miss not using google map, because I know my way 
I miss, if lost, asking for directions, 
How all would offer to help,
They know their city damn well,
No body is a tourist there....

I miss going to work, knowing so much is waiting,
I miss the history I shared with them all:
Here is someone I refused once to help,
and there is a colleague who didn't like my provoking posts..
I miss walking the familiar roads 
There in the university gardens with my only friend
Whine together how hard our job was!!

I miss my way back home, 
The familiar noise of the youngest ones,
fighting over the remote,
I miss all the old ways of the world,
Where nothing sounds good, but I knew it perfectly well. 

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Talking Back

Maybe it is all I can do,
Maybe it is all I have,
But if I have nothing else, my words will talk back...

They will push off your hand,
Hard pressed against my mouth,
They will cry loud against white and black,
No turban will shroud my soul;
My voice will always shout back...

My grandmother's wise sigh,
My mother's desparate gaze,
Their wrapped-heads in black
Will always talk back ...

From your bombs, I pick my pen,
From repression I choose my ink,
And on your turban I will write back

Songs of resistance and resilience
Songs of life born new,
I will be defiantly talking back...
   

Sunday, July 3, 2016

The Story of Every Eid in Iraq

I am not sure what I am saying here, but I need to say it. We don't just live a miserable life, but we resign to the miserable fate willingly. Our lives don't matter anymore, not even to ourselves.

With every explosion, I read people's comments on the many lives lost in each incident, most of which are just passive and submissive. Most would dismiss the blood shed for no reason, with passive prayer "May God give them mercy, and end in heaven" (الله يرحمهم، يجعل مثواهم الجنة)!! Then they dismiss the pain of the victim's family with another submissive phrase, "May God give them patience" (الله يصبرهم ). After that we move on to live the rest of our days thinking this is why we are created: to live, die, then end up in heaven or hell!

Ironically, their killers from IS think and say the same, believing their recruits to to have God's mercy, to end in heaven. They also condole the families of the dead using the same words!!

I kept browsing all the pages reporting the explosion in Karrada, reading the comments, hoping that while people write away their sadness with a sentence of two, they would curse the government, and swear vengeance for the dead!! They do curse the government, but they seem to accept death as a fate!! They believe we all will die in a predestined date, probably predestined manner!

(If so, why do we have to punish those who are only God's tool to fulfill what he destined for us?!! Simply, it doesn't make sense!)

The explosion of Karada is no news for Iraqis. For years now Iraqis celebrate Eid with innocent blood, shed around its streets, with black flags hanging around its walls, and with cries of widows, orphans and bewailing mothers. No body is held responsible, because it is the will of God to have these innocents die; it is the will of God to wipe off smiles from every Muslim's face and replace it with tears. It is Allah's will, هذه ارادة الله Praise be to Allah, الحمد لله !!

We sign out, we move on to the next episode of some ridiculous human drama in far away land, meanwhile ask why we can't live like them? then dismiss these sinful thoughts with "You have God Iraq!" الك الله يا عراق

and the story continues.....