Two Stories and a Genocide

"Who gonna do it?"

That question reverberates in my mind every night.  As a poet, I ask myself whose story is this to tell? I'm not among those constantly wandering in search of safety for the next few hours. Wondering then, where to next? I'm not clutching my stomach to pain of emptiness in a body wasting in the drag on it as it as it tries to pull some kind of strength from nutrients that aren't available.  

I'm not having to close my eyes as I step over body parts that are barely distinguishable. That every breath I take is filled with a mixture of dust, of soot particles and the sulfur of explosions. The smell of death that is always an undercurrent. I know of these things but I don't actually live then, so it's not really my story to tell.

The story that is mine to tell is none the less painful. It is the story of a mixture of anger and sadness. It is a frustration that even as a poet I cannot seem to find the correct word to convey that sadness because sadness is not. good enough. It's more than that... it's not even despondency, it's overwhelming, it's grief. It is seeing so many photos and videos that they have become a collage of images in my brain.  And as this goes on, my anger grows and it is hard to keep it under control because it is American Tax Dollars, Billions of them that has been feeding this ugly vial right-wing Zionist government that has made the decision to choose genocide on the people of Gaza. 

That anger is fermented by the inability to stop our government's ongoing support of Netanyahu, of Bezalel Smotrich, of other Israeli government leaders and the IDF who are executing a campaign of ethnic cleansing so that they can clear the Palestinians out of Gaza and the West Bank, one way or the other and finally take their land as their own, just as they have been illegally doing in the West Bank now for years.

There is a deep pain, deep sadness, unspeakable outrage that America has played a roll in this. The deaths of women and children. The Starvation. The inability to say to the Palestinians, this was not my wish. This was not collectively the desire of the American people. It was the inexcusable actions of many who thought they were doing something they should do, because they have tried to defend Israel for so many years they didn't see that their actions were doing to a  whole nation of Palestinians. There is no excuse for these misguided actions. 

So, my nights are filled with the anger of our involvement. With the sadness for a whole generation of Palestinian children what are being lost to death, to being maimed, to being orphaned, to a lifetime of trauma, as well as the remainder of the civilian population of men and women who suffer this unspeakable genocide. That is the story I must tell. 

The story of the Palestanian people and the story of the Americans who have not asked for the roll in their genocide are parallel stories. Different, yet the same. They are stories that must be recorded for history.  Each must be told. 

The Poetry of Mahmoud Darwish

I wonder how many know of Mahmoud Darwish? He was not a poet I was familiar with until his recent death hit the news. Of course there are perhaps as many poets who escape my knowledge as there are grains of sand, but few with the lyrical power of words that seem to be embodied in his work.

He is not without controversy, which the circumstances of his life perhaps contribute more to than the tone of his poetry. At least that which I have seen.

A Palestinian born in what is today Israel was a factor that was destined to have enormous influence upon his life and ultimately how he would be viewed by others.

He was taught by his grandfather to read and write, his mother being illiterate. It was as early as age seven that he began writing poetry and the lessons of a lifetime of loss swell in his work.

In an editorial by written by As'ad AbuKhalil this month, Darwish is described as "...comfortable in Hebrew and had relations in Israeli society. But as an Arab Palestinian in a state based upon religious supremacy and privileges, he could only stand at a distance: he could only stay in the inferior status still reserved for Arab citizens of the state."

Darwish became regarded as the Palestinian national poet. His writing revered by the Palestinian people. Christina Patterson writing for the Independent writes that poetry is regarded as a pastime for the lost and lonely people of Palestine.

Between 1961 and 1967, Darwish was reportedly jailed by Israelis five times. There were many times he was under house arrest. The obstacles encountered seemed only to increase his writing output. People familiar with his work say he was far more interested in growing his literary abilities than pleasing the many Palestinian readers who became critical when he traveled to the Soviet Union or elsewhere to study and write. If they felt an abandonment, he never saw it that way.

Mahmoud Darwish died in Houston, Texas on August 9, 2008 three days following heart surgery. With this post, I hope to better familiarize many Americans who enjoy and appreciate a bit of a glimpse at who he was and his work. I believe, at least that which I have seen, is extraordinary.

I found this statement by the poet Naomi Shihab Nye on Poets.org about him. "Mahmoud Darwish is the Essential Breath of the Palestinian people, the eloquent witness of exile and belonging, exquisitely tuned singer of images that invoke, link, and shine a brilliant light into the world's whole heart. What he speaks has been embraced by readers around the world—his in an utterly necessary voice, unforgettable once discovered."

Here are some resources to lean more about Darwish's work:

Two Poems By Mahmoud Darwish translated by Fady Joudah /Sonnet VI & Two Stranger Birds in Our Feathers

I Didn't Apologize to the Well

A Noun Sentence

With the Mist So Dense on the Bridge

Under Siege

Quotations:

"I will continue to humanize even the enemy... The first teacher who taught me Hebrew was a Jew. The first love affair in my life was with a Jewish girl. The first judge who sent me to prison was a Jewish woman. So from the beginning, I didn't see Jews as devils or angels but as human beings." Several poems are to Jewish lovers. "These poems take the side of love not war,"

"I thought poetry could change everything, could change history and could humanize, and I think that the illusion is very necessary to push poets to be involved and to believe, but now I think that poetry changes only the poet."

"We should not justify suicide bombers. We are against the suicide bombers, but we must understand what drives these young people to such actions. They want to liberate themselves from such a dark life. It is not ideological, it is despair."

"Why are we always told that we cannot solve our problem without solving the existential anxiety of the Israelis and their supporters who have ignored our very existence for decades in our own homeland?"

*source of quotes: Wikipedia

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