"Blessed are the peacemakers"
by
Nizar Qabbani
My son places his paint box in front of me
and asks me to draw a bird for him.
Into the color gray I dip the brush
and draw a square with locks and bars.
Astonishment fills his eyes:
"...But this is a prison, Father,
Don't you know , how to draw a bird?"
And I tell him: "Son, forgive me.
I've forgotten the shapes of birds."
My son puts the drawing book in front of me
and asks me to draw a wheat stalk. I hold the pen and draw a gun.
My son mocks my ignorance, demanding,
"Don't you know, Father, the difference between a Wheat stalk and a gun?"
I tell him, "Son, once I used to know the
shapes of wheat stalks; the shape of the loaf; the shape of the rose.
But in this hardened time, the trees of the
forest hae joined the militia men and the
rose wears dull fatigues.
In this time of armed wheat stalks, armed
birds, armed culture and armed religion;
you can't buy a loaf without finding a gun
inside.
You can't pluck a rose in the field without its raising its thorns in your face; you can't buy a book that doesn't explode between your fingers."
My son sits at the edge of my bed and asks me to recite a poem, A tear falls frommy eyes onto the pillow. My son licks it up, astonished, saying:
"But this is a tear, father, not a poem!"
And I tell him:
"When you grow up, my son, and read the diwan
of Arabic poetry you'll discover that the word
and the tear are twins and the Arabic poem is
no more than a tear wept by writing fingers."
My son lays down his pens, his crayon box in front of me and asks me to draw a homeland forhim. The brush trembles in my hands and I sink, weeping.
The agony is on your face
Your struggle felt as a heaviness upon many souls.
Wishing to be as brave as you
Holding strong; heads held high.
Your cries are heard, your pain felt
some of us fight the battle as cowards
writing words and praying for peace;
most, of which, falls upon deaf mute ears
Our hearts moan in desperate pain
As heads touch ground in solemn prayer,
One finds it a struggle to find the words
screaming from the inside of souls;
Hoping to be finally heard! (pw)
Death's Face
I saw deaths face today
It shattered my heart
Young warrior, eyes locked shut.
Do you still feel the pain and carnage
your blood shed into the reddened earth
all the destruction; hearts breaking;
mothers weeping, children shaking.
One man sitting smiling under blue and white;
his evil lurking..God watches and waits.
Prophecy written, anger held and words read
..better to sit than to stand but
souls scream; men weep;
their rage lost on deaf ears. (pw)
