The Mouth of Abyss
Rebellious words escape my pen
Refusing to be imprisoned on paper.
Asking me to wage a war
Against stupidity and failure.
There’s no place left for sanity
There’s no place for peace.
Time is eating up our minds
Persuading us to watch in silence.
If it’s not the blood we see in the street
Then for the cry of a child.
The sky is gloomy and sad
Exhaust its tears for Baghdad.
The poet is left without a word
The painter is left without a brush
The sweet butterflies have no meadows
Nothing left for beauty
Nothing left for but sorrow.
Death has marched into the cities.
Plague has roamed the earth.
Nothing left for wisdom
Reason has kissed us goodbye.
You asked me “Is there a way to help?”
I told you “Can the Helpless offer help?”
You’re already paralyzed by fear,
Or is the hunger?
O Time, o Arms of Hours
Release us from your Canines
And let us be.
Save me time to go back to Baghdad
To go back to the gardens of Babylon
Just to have another look on Malweya
To swim once again in Tigris and Euphrates.
Save us time to enjoy Nawrooz
To fly back in time to the Scientists of Mustansiria.
Release us from the chains
Release us from the rope.
Dangled with the rope of misery
Over the mouth of Abyss.
The Darkness of the night has filled my heart with fear
Where to escape and where to go?
Shall I say goodbye like the millions
Shall I say goodbye and leave for the unknown
What about the heritage of the nation
Who will defend the Zaqurat?
It’s the sounds of Minarets…
The bells of Churches…
They are all calling me
Hanging on to me.
I hear them say “Don’t leave”
O Time, o deceitful Hours
Have you no shame, have you no honor?
This is where the First Letter was written
This is where the First Law was written
This is where Men invented the Wheel
This is where Women were first honored.
O The Cradle of Civilizations
You have become the grave of civilizations.
2007-09-05 1:30
Refusing to be imprisoned on paper.
Asking me to wage a war
Against stupidity and failure.
There’s no place left for sanity
There’s no place for peace.
Time is eating up our minds
Persuading us to watch in silence.
If it’s not the blood we see in the street
Then for the cry of a child.
The sky is gloomy and sad
Exhaust its tears for Baghdad.
The poet is left without a word
The painter is left without a brush
The sweet butterflies have no meadows
Nothing left for beauty
Nothing left for but sorrow.
Death has marched into the cities.
Plague has roamed the earth.
Nothing left for wisdom
Reason has kissed us goodbye.
You asked me “Is there a way to help?”
I told you “Can the Helpless offer help?”
You’re already paralyzed by fear,
Or is the hunger?
O Time, o Arms of Hours
Release us from your Canines
And let us be.
Save me time to go back to Baghdad
To go back to the gardens of Babylon
Just to have another look on Malweya
To swim once again in Tigris and Euphrates.
Save us time to enjoy Nawrooz
To fly back in time to the Scientists of Mustansiria.
Release us from the chains
Release us from the rope.
Dangled with the rope of misery
Over the mouth of Abyss.
The Darkness of the night has filled my heart with fear
Where to escape and where to go?
Shall I say goodbye like the millions
Shall I say goodbye and leave for the unknown
What about the heritage of the nation
Who will defend the Zaqurat?
It’s the sounds of Minarets…
The bells of Churches…
They are all calling me
Hanging on to me.
I hear them say “Don’t leave”
O Time, o deceitful Hours
Have you no shame, have you no honor?
This is where the First Letter was written
This is where the First Law was written
This is where Men invented the Wheel
This is where Women were first honored.
O The Cradle of Civilizations
You have become the grave of civilizations.
2007-09-05 1:30
posted by attawie at Tuesday, September 25, 2007
3 Comments:
This is a very sad poem Attawie. It reads like a tragic story. But, it is a story that must be read. Somehow we must learn from the story and all try to make things better. I believe that no one that is still alive is truly helpless. There is always something that one can do, even if it is only a simple kind word or deed. Mostly, I have only kind words to offer, but I give them gladly and freely in the hope that they will be heard, and that they might offer some small measure of comfort or hope. As long as the idea of Iraq and its great history lives in the minds and hearts of its people, then all is not lost, and there remains hope for the future. I wish that Iraq will see a few rays of moonlight to lift the weight of darkness from its night, and fear from the hearts of its people.
I would like to contact you in regards for potential interest in publishing some of your writings in our magazine Audio, Video, Disco. Please contact us at audiovideodiscomag@gmail.com for more info.
This is a beautiful post. I hope to good days will return to Iraq in our lifetime.
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