Mahmoud Darwish on Gaza

MAHMOUD DARWISH

"Gaza has no throat.
Its pores are the ones that speak in sweat, blood, and fires.
Hence the enemy hates it to death and fears it to criminality, and tries to sink it into the sea... And hence its relatives and friends love it with a coyness that amounts to jealousy and fear at times, because Gaza is the brutal lesson …and the shining example for enemies and friends alike. Gaza is not the most beautiful city.
Its shore is not bluer than the shores of Arab cities.
Its oranges are not the most beautiful in the Mediterranean basin.
Gaza is not the richest city.
It is not the most elegant or the biggest, but it equals the history of an entire homeland, because it is more ugly, impoverished, miserable, and vicious in the eyes of enemies.
Because it is the most capable, among us, of disturbing the enemy’s mood and his comfort. Because it is his nightmare. Because it is mined with oranges; children without a childhood; old men without old age; and women without desires. Because of all this it is the most beautiful, the purest and richest among us and the one most worthy of love."

For a song sung by an Israeli and Palestinian, with a few thoughts of my own, go to my post In my heart.

[Hat tip: Laila, of Raising Yousuf and Noor: diary of a Palestinian Mother]

The Passing of a Palestinian Poet: Mahmoud Darwish

Laila of Raising Yousuf and Noor informs us that the celebrated Palestinian poet passed away yesterday. I have often heard of this poet, but still haven't got round to reading his work - something I'd love to rectifiy. Lailia posts a poem, from which I recognised a line. It has been used by Edward Said as the title for an eloquent elegy (or is it a paen? I'm no good at poetry) for his beloved people, After the Last Sky. I should add that the blog Improvisations has posted an interesting review of his book Memory for Forgetfulness. And finally, related in theme, is this music video In my Heart.

The Earth is closing on us

pushing us through the last passage

and we tear off our limbs to pass through.

The Earth is squeezing us.

I wish we were its wheat

so we could die and live again.

I wish the Earth was our mother

so she'd be kind to us.

I wish we were pictures on the rocks

for our dreams to carry as mirrors.

We saw the faces of those who will throw

our children out of the window of this last space.

Our star will hang up mirrors.

Where should we go after the last frontiers?

Where should the birds fly after the last sky?

Where should the plants sleep after the last breath of air?

We will write our names with scarlet steam.

We will cut off the hand of the song to be finished by our flesh.

We will die here, here in the last passage.

Here and here our blood will plant its olive tree.

- Mahmoud Darwish