And thus She spoke...
"And on the third day, I rose…
Something inside keeps pushing me to write through.
Even though I have no "ink" left.
Something, someone, like a still little voice deep from within, from without, gently commands me...WRITE.
And I struggle and I wrestle...with words.
Words that keep eluding me, slipping through my fingers like ether, like mercury...
I compress, squeeze, wring...
I shake, as if shaking a bottle for the last drops to trickle and hopefully quench.
And I struggle some more and nothing comes out.
Many a times I have cried out : Oh God why have you forsaken me? Why have you abandoned me?
And I hear nothing but the silence of my cries like an echo in a mass grave.
There is no shortage of misery, there is no lack of suffering...
Maybe it is too grandiose for me to deal with alone and where should I start?
Torture and death? Emptiness and hunger? Untreated Illnesses and agony ? Orphans and roaming street children ? Poverty and hunger? Exile and refugees? Destruction and paralysis? Ruins and rubbles? Grief and resignation? Violence and occupation? Madness and loss of direction? Unemployment and mendicity? Depleted Uranium and Tumors? Widows and loneliness? Abductions and kidnappings? Bombs and explosions? Interrogations and imprisonment? Corruption and executions? Mercenaries and contractors? Blood spilling and lack of transfusions? Hospitals and lack of medication? Militias and drills? Oil and theft? Longings and torment?
The enemies at my gates were numerous and my Judas had many masks.
Each mask bearing a different origin, a different color, a different lie and each mask hiding another...
Where do you want me to start?
Help me here…
Lend me one of your so called Christian charitable hands and tell me what do you want me to begin with?
Lend me some of your so called Muslim piety and stand by me, at least for a little while.
Lend me some of your so called Jewish tears and speak of the persecuted, the defamed...
Lend me one of your so called Arab pompous, prideful voices and trigger me off.
Lend me one of your so called Solidarity fists and multiply my voice, multiply my absent words...
Lend me one of your so called civilized humanistic orations and halt my blood.
Stop giving me vinegar pretending it is water.
Stop digging more nails into my body pretending they are balms.
Stop crowning me with thorns pretending they are flowers.
Stand by me, stand with me...
Stand with me as am losing grounds, stand with me as am sinking, stand with me as the earth is being eroded from beneath my feet.
I am tired of shaking you like am trying to shake this empty bottle.
I am tired of explaining to you, of trying to convince you, of showing you, of relating to you...
I am tired of your empty temples, tired of your hollow shouts, tired of your fake statues and your endless idol worshipping.
I feel terribly alone here...doing the unthinkable...doing the improbable...doing the unfathomable...doing the miraculous.
My faithful, courageous, men and women are resisting you and they have been doing so for years...alone.
Resisting your tyranny, resisting your dictatorship, resisting your violence and brutality, resisting your spite, your hatred and your greed...alone.
I am tired of your accusations, of your snide remarks, of your mistrust, of your projections, of your slanders, of your ignorance, of your idiocy, of your lack of presence, of your lack of will…
Here I am trying to find words as if crawling on four, trying to gather lost, scattered beads from a rosary.
Get down with me and search for them...Reclaim your sacred vows, rediscover your language.
I am giving you this opportunity, I am offering your this gift, over my dead tortured, massacred body...
You have nailed and crucified me and I am resurrecting again and again.
Don't shut me out, dont shut me off...
Don't shut yourself off and repossess the words with me.
Maybe we will find a common language.
Maybe we will find a common prayer.
Maybe you will be raised again and taste life once more...
And if you do abandon me and my plight, and I do go into the underworld, remember that I will drag you along with me.
For you are neither alone nor immune.
If I could sink the Goddess Ishtar into the tenebrous lows, I can sink you too.
if I could sharpen Gilgamesh's axe, surely I can touch you too.
If I could survive a thousand invasions from the times of Babylon through the Mongols right down to the pale skinned ones and their dark servants, surely I can survive you too.
If my womb gave birth to hundreds of prophets, surely it can give birth to you too.
Do not mistake my crying out to you as helplessness...Take it as my hand finally saving you.
Remember me. Remember my history and remember who I am, and don't you ever forget my name. I am Iraq.
I have died a thousand times and have resurrected. And have died once more...and will resurrect again.
But this time around it will be your final end and my eternal beginning."
And thus She spoke, on the third day, on the Cross.
Happy Easter and Happy Resurrection.
Painting: Iraqi artist, Dia Al-Azzawi:" Homage to Al Jawahiri"
Something inside keeps pushing me to write through.
Even though I have no "ink" left.
Something, someone, like a still little voice deep from within, from without, gently commands me...WRITE.
And I struggle and I wrestle...with words.
Words that keep eluding me, slipping through my fingers like ether, like mercury...
I compress, squeeze, wring...
I shake, as if shaking a bottle for the last drops to trickle and hopefully quench.
And I struggle some more and nothing comes out.
Many a times I have cried out : Oh God why have you forsaken me? Why have you abandoned me?
And I hear nothing but the silence of my cries like an echo in a mass grave.
There is no shortage of misery, there is no lack of suffering...
Maybe it is too grandiose for me to deal with alone and where should I start?
Torture and death? Emptiness and hunger? Untreated Illnesses and agony ? Orphans and roaming street children ? Poverty and hunger? Exile and refugees? Destruction and paralysis? Ruins and rubbles? Grief and resignation? Violence and occupation? Madness and loss of direction? Unemployment and mendicity? Depleted Uranium and Tumors? Widows and loneliness? Abductions and kidnappings? Bombs and explosions? Interrogations and imprisonment? Corruption and executions? Mercenaries and contractors? Blood spilling and lack of transfusions? Hospitals and lack of medication? Militias and drills? Oil and theft? Longings and torment?
The enemies at my gates were numerous and my Judas had many masks.
Each mask bearing a different origin, a different color, a different lie and each mask hiding another...
Where do you want me to start?
Help me here…
Lend me one of your so called Christian charitable hands and tell me what do you want me to begin with?
Lend me some of your so called Muslim piety and stand by me, at least for a little while.
Lend me some of your so called Jewish tears and speak of the persecuted, the defamed...
Lend me one of your so called Arab pompous, prideful voices and trigger me off.
Lend me one of your so called Solidarity fists and multiply my voice, multiply my absent words...
Lend me one of your so called civilized humanistic orations and halt my blood.
Stop giving me vinegar pretending it is water.
Stop digging more nails into my body pretending they are balms.
Stop crowning me with thorns pretending they are flowers.
Stand by me, stand with me...
Stand with me as am losing grounds, stand with me as am sinking, stand with me as the earth is being eroded from beneath my feet.
I am tired of shaking you like am trying to shake this empty bottle.
I am tired of explaining to you, of trying to convince you, of showing you, of relating to you...
I am tired of your empty temples, tired of your hollow shouts, tired of your fake statues and your endless idol worshipping.
I feel terribly alone here...doing the unthinkable...doing the improbable...doing the unfathomable...doing the miraculous.
My faithful, courageous, men and women are resisting you and they have been doing so for years...alone.
Resisting your tyranny, resisting your dictatorship, resisting your violence and brutality, resisting your spite, your hatred and your greed...alone.
I am tired of your accusations, of your snide remarks, of your mistrust, of your projections, of your slanders, of your ignorance, of your idiocy, of your lack of presence, of your lack of will…
Here I am trying to find words as if crawling on four, trying to gather lost, scattered beads from a rosary.
Get down with me and search for them...Reclaim your sacred vows, rediscover your language.
I am giving you this opportunity, I am offering your this gift, over my dead tortured, massacred body...
You have nailed and crucified me and I am resurrecting again and again.
Don't shut me out, dont shut me off...
Don't shut yourself off and repossess the words with me.
Maybe we will find a common language.
Maybe we will find a common prayer.
Maybe you will be raised again and taste life once more...
And if you do abandon me and my plight, and I do go into the underworld, remember that I will drag you along with me.
For you are neither alone nor immune.
If I could sink the Goddess Ishtar into the tenebrous lows, I can sink you too.
if I could sharpen Gilgamesh's axe, surely I can touch you too.
If I could survive a thousand invasions from the times of Babylon through the Mongols right down to the pale skinned ones and their dark servants, surely I can survive you too.
If my womb gave birth to hundreds of prophets, surely it can give birth to you too.
Do not mistake my crying out to you as helplessness...Take it as my hand finally saving you.
Remember me. Remember my history and remember who I am, and don't you ever forget my name. I am Iraq.
I have died a thousand times and have resurrected. And have died once more...and will resurrect again.
But this time around it will be your final end and my eternal beginning."
And thus She spoke, on the third day, on the Cross.
Happy Easter and Happy Resurrection.
Painting: Iraqi artist, Dia Al-Azzawi:" Homage to Al Jawahiri"
Comments
Dear, dear Layla, you are not alone. I'm with you, crawling on all fours right next to you, weeping as I search for lost words...
Happy Resurrection Day!
My dear sister you are so awesome and I just love you. What a beautiful writer you are and what a blessing to us. I'll have to say you brought tears to my eyes when talking about "Orphans" because it reminded me of going to India last year on a missionary trip. I wonder if bush can group them all together and say, "God Please Forgive Me". My Question Is How Can bush Say he Believes? What a joke.
Now back to reality, you are a music lover and I have a song for you it is by, James Taylor and it is called, "You've Got A Friend" look up the lyrics on this song.
In part is says, "When your down and troubled and need a helping hand....." "You just call out my name" Layla I'll be there.
Savage
just brilliant!
Why Christians celebrate these "holy days" is a mystery to me. Their bedrock of faith, the 10 Commandents, are broken on a consistent and regular basis.
"Thou shalt not kill" Right. "Thou shalt not steal"
i'm starting to laugh. "Thou shalt not bear false witness"
The large majority of Christians have no idea of what the commandents mean or how to love their brother.
In Amerika, if you aren't white, rich and republican, you're fair game for oppression, mock trials, slavery and executing.
Only these "christians" are so kind and loving they like to export the looting, pillaging, murdering and oppression to other nations.
If you happen to have natural resources, like oil, look out, your due to be "liberated"
Shock and Awe" style.
To further illustrate the phoniness of these "christians", just go into one of their churches.
You'll probably see their favorite false god hanging on a cross. This idol--no, not American Idol--has skin so white it looks like ivory.
Which is so far from the truth and reality of what JC really looked like.
Being from the Middle East, his skin had to be brown, if not black.
His hair was not the long hair "hippie" look so favored, but "curly, like a lamb's". This description is in their bible.
If the event of his birth took place today in Amerika, again they would be denied lodging, due to their skin color.
They might even be rounded up and tossed into a jail cell, due to their possibly being immigrants.
Yes, Amerika is #1. #1 in the amount of lying, stealing and murder we live by, all in the name of our god.
Pls have a look at this well written article on Iran (it shows the position of Uruknet):
http://www.uruknet.info/?p=m31984&s1=h1
Layth
I don't know how you do it. Again, its poignantly brilliant.
Is this blog your first attempt to write? If so, what took you so long? I visit many blogs and never see anything this close to brilliance. Of course, many other bloggers repeat the same stories ad nauseam with no passion, no heart, no pain, etc.
To other bloggers: The bar has been raised. Catch it, if you can.
prop
It is simply a matter of morality and yet nothing we as individuals do seems to be enough, but if we do nothing, then we will ultimately answer to God, NOT when we die, but in our daily lives and in our black hearts.
One more prayer for you dear Layla, one more small action, taken as a whole from all of us who DO care, yet thus far impotent in our efforts fir no matter what we do, we CANNOT undo what has already been done and that is the abyss we as Americans from one degree to another all hail from.
I agree with you, Robin, too.
Dearest Layla, I am lost for words - your writing is exquisite, and nothing I say, with my poor writing skills, can add to what you've already said. I stand with you and all Iraqis, particularly today, the fourth anniversary of the barbaric destruction of Baghdad/Iraq.