An Arab Woman Blues - Reflections in a sealed bottle...

It took me 3 days to dim the image of little Saint Rita, deformed and blind, running lost in a hospital corridor, bumping into broken chairs and bed with no sheets...with her name tagged around her neck like a dog's collar...it took me 3 days...and am wondering how many days will it take me to dim the following image from my mind ? Yet I know the little saints icons will never be erased from my mind, they will forever remain a torch of truth burning, burning bright, the flames of Truth... Diyala province, on the outskirts of Baquba. The US brave boys, the rapists, torturers and killers who crossed oceans stinking of greed and hatred, bombed a lone house made of mud and bricks, in a field, on the outskirts of Baquba. Sunni insurgents - they said. Troops then encircled the house, taking the mother and father. They were never seen again. The house collapsed except for one room. After some time, when things calmed down, a distant neighbor passed by the field and entered the hou...

They are little, and no icons nor statues have been carved or erected in their names...they will forever remain anonymous...but not to me. I have not seen their faces, but I heard their stories...and every saint has a story. No wait, I have seen their faces, I have...I have seen your filth and ugliness reflected in theirs...and is that not what saints are made of ? aren't they made of human filth and greed ? Aren't saints the ones who took it all in, absorbed all of you and were eventually salvaged from the human garbage, because make no mistake about yourselves, you are garbage. Aren't they the ones who witnessed the unthinkable as some training ground to redeem you later, you vermin of the human race ?! Well I have many stories of saints in the making...and is Iraq not the land of Gods, Goddesses, Prophets and Saints ? What you are about to read are true samples...samples of your "Democracy, Freedom and Liberty." How I have come to hate these words.....

Been without a computer for quite some time, a loving hacker decided to silence me again, hoping maybe I will lose the ability to put in words...he/she sort of succeeded, because after such an absence, I feel am a like a beginner again...even though it has not been all that long...or has it? I don't know, I have lost count of Time, the Future, I have no vision for. I live one day at a time and go where the winds take me... It might come across as strange for those who plan ahead, the famous - 1 year, 2 years, 5 years plan...how can one not plan for the future they wonder ? I did not plan for the occupation, so why should I plan for the future ? This has become my modus operandi. When people ask me about the future, I just shrug and say - I don't know, maybe, maybe not, perhaps, we shall see, Inshallah, who knows, no guarantees...I noticed these are idioms I use often, almost automatically...like they have become part of my being. I am not sure, maybe I am afflicted b...

If I am to choose between dying from a bullet or a tumor, I'd choose the former... I have seen the agony of those with tumors...I stood by their side, and saw them exhale their last breath...I saw the bald heads of chemotherapy, the bloated faces with cortisone, the final cry of mercy... This sight is no joke... Later on, I stood there, and prayed when their finally rested bodies showed up in coffins... I will never forget the agony, nor the cries of pain...the coffin is relief, a sign that a clement God does really exist. And how many a times I prayed for Death, for Deliverance... Is that what we've been reduced to - praying for the angel of Death to deliver us ? Deliver us from your bullets or your tumors ? Because I tell you, every single person I come across that arrives from Iraq will tell me the same...they tell me if you are not killed with a bullet, you will be killed with a tumor. Iraq has become a disaster area, a health hazard...the levels of toxicity...