A Tunnel...



God damn it, this Iraq saps me...saps me dry...am stuck in a tunnel and I see no way out...my whole world revolves around names hand picked from a flea market...names I never heard of before, crawling like insects from the cracks of our existence...

Who are these people and where are they leading us ? Every sane Iraqi must ask himself/herself this question. Where the fuck are you ? Have you disappeared in the ether, in communion with the dead or are you patiently waiting for your turn to finally join them -- your easy way out, since the only thing they promised you -- your liberators and your idols, is death...

They guaranteed you death, and now you just wait for it, like a terminally ill patient in a doctor's waiting room. He knows he's on his final way out, but he still pays his weekly visit...

How did my world shrink to turbans and robes...to charlatans and quacks, to a vicious authoritarianism that has suck up every God notion from my vocabulary..did my soul die in this tunnel ?..the idea itself is more murderous than a physical death...

We are the soul zombies of the new world order...the soul zombies of the new Middle East...

A tunnel...

Have you ever been in a tunnel ? Have you ever traveled ever so slowly in a tunnel ? where its walls cave in on you...and at times, you just paint them with memories dug out of your suitcase...you draw a mural inside your tunnel...

You think of ways by which you can forget where and who you are...change your name, change your hair color, change your language, invent a new story, pluck it all out from its roots...

But you can't...it all sticks to you like your own skin...a skin you can't undress from nor escape...

You know that Life has stopped...and all you see is the tunnel...and the tunnel becomes your life.


Painting : Iraqi female artist, Betool Fekaiki

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