#tamim al-barghouti

[effen-draws]

A small collaboration with Ibraheem, whose campaign is still going!!

So if you have the money to spare I implore you to donate:

[everyday-is-brighter-with-you]

In Jerusalem by Tamim Al-Barghouti - Translated by Anas and Amena, based off Houssem Ben Lazreg

In Jerusalem

We passed by the beloved’s house, but were turned away​ by the enemy’s laws and the enemy's wall.​

I told myself, “Maybe, that is a blessing,” for what will you see in Jerusalem when ​you visit it?

You will see all that you cannot endure, when its houses appear by the ​side of the road.​

And not every soul rejoices when it meets its beloved, nor does every separation harm it.​

For if their meetings pleased it before separation,​ That pleasure is not, after their reunion, guaranteed.

Once you set your eyes on Old Jerusalem one time, your eyes will then see it, wherever you set them. ……………………………………………………………………………….

In Jerusalem is a greengrocer from Georgia, annoyed with his wife, thinking of going on vacation ​or of painting his house.​

In Jerusalem is a Torah ​ and an elderly man come from Upper Manhattan to teach Polish boys its commandments.​

In Jerusalem is an Ethiopian policeman closing off a street in the marketplace.​ A machine gun on a settler not yet twenty.​ A hat greeting the Wailing Wall. ​

​And European tourists who do not see Jerusalem at all.​ You see them taking pictures ​of each other ​with a Palestinian woman who sells radishes in public squares ​all day long.​

In Jerusalem the soldiers marched ​with heavy boots ​over the clouds. In Jerusalem we prayed on the asphalt. ​In Jerusalem ​is…​whomsoever is in Jerusalem…but you.​

And History turned to me and smiled: ​ "Did you really think that your eye would overlook them and see other than them? Here they are in front of you; ​The text,​ of which you are the footnote and margin.

O son, did you think ​that a visit would lift​ off of the city’s face ​the thick veil of its reality, so that you may see what you desire?​ In Jerusalem ​is every young man…​but you.​

It is the deer in the distance whom fate decreed stay out of reach,​ you still chase after her ​ever since she said goodbye with a tear​. Go easy on yourself for a moment, ​I see that you have become weak…​ In Jerusalem ​is​…whomsoever is in Jerusalem…​but you.​"

O chronicler of history, wait a minute for the city’s timeline is twofold: One is foreign, serene, with steady steps ​as if sleepwalking​ And there is another, hidden, masked, walking silently, cautious of the first…​

And Jerusalem knows itself. ​Ask the people there everyone will guide you,​ for every thing in the city has a tongue ​eloquent when you ask it.​

In Jerusalem the crescent becomes more curved, like an embryo,​ bending towards its likenesses over the domes, developing with them over the years a relationship,​ as of a father to his sons.​

In Jerusalem are buildings whose stones are quotations​ from the Bible and the Quran.​

In Jerusalem the definition of beauty is ​a blue octagon,​ on top of it, dear friend, lies a golden dome ​that looks to me like ​a convex mirror in which heaven’s face ​is reflected,​ coddled, drawn near, ​ distributed like aid to the ​needy as they are besieged ​ when they appeal to God ​after a Friday sermon. ​ In Jerusalem the sky is amongst us, ​ we protect it and it ​protects us, ​ and we would carry it on​ our shoulders if Time ever ​oppressed its moons.​

In Jerusalem are dark marble columns,​ the veins in the marble resemble smoke. ​ And windows, high on mosques and churches, taking Dawn by hand to show it how engraving in colour is done. ​

Dawn says, “like this,” ​and the windows reply, “no, rather like this.” ​ And whenever this debate lasts long, they compromise. For Dawn is free outside the thresholds, but​ if it ever wishes to enter ​it is bound to the rules of the windows and their Lord.​

In Jerusalem there’s a school built by a Mameluke who came from beyond the river, was sold at a slave market in Isfahan, to a merchant from Baghdad, who traveled to Aleppo, and gave the Mameluke to Aleppo’s Prince, Fearing the blueness in the Mameluke’s left eye, the Prince gave him to a caravan heading for Egypt where soon, he became the vanquisher of the Moguls and the Sovereign Sultan

In Jerusalem is a scent that captures the essence of Babylon and India​ at an herbalist’s shop in Khan El Zeit.​ A scent that I swear has a language ​you will understand if you listen to; And it says to me when they fire tear gas at me “Don’t worry about them.” And it fills the air again as the gas ​fades away and it says to me: “Do you see?”​

In Jerusalem contradictions are in agreement, ​and the wonders people cannot deny;​ they check them out like pieces of cloth, old and new,​ and the miracles there they touch with their hands.

In Jerusalem if you shake hands with an old man or touch a building, you will find engraved on your palm, ​my friend, lines of a poem or two.​

In Jerusalem despite the succession of calamities a breeze of innocence fills the air, a breeze of childhood.​ And you will see doves flying declaring the birth of a state between two bullets.

​In Jerusalem the rows of graves are lined like they are ​the lines of the city’s history, ​ and the book is its soil. ​

Everyone has passed through here for Jerusalem welcomes all who come to it.​ Walk through it, and read its gravestones in the languages of all peoples of the Earth. There are the Africans, Europeans, Kipchaks, Slavs, Bosniaks, Tatars, Turks, the believers, disbelievers, poor, rich, sinners, hermits. In here are all the peoples that have ever walked the face of the Earth.​

Oh chronicler of history! ​What has happened that you ​have excluded us? Have you found that we are the only ones with no place left for us in the city? Re-write and read again for I see that you have erred.​

My eyes close, then look again. The driver of the yellow car heads north, away from the city’s gates, and now Jerusalem is behind us.

My eyes see it in the right-side mirror, as its colors have changed in the sun before sunset, when a smile surprised me, how it sneaked onto my face, I do not know.​

It said to me after all this pondering: ​ “O you weeping behind the city wall, are you a fool? Have you lost your mind? ​ Do not weep O you who have been excluded from the text of the book. ​ Do not weep O Arab, and know surely that​

In Jerusalem ​is whomsoever is in Jerusalem but…In Jerusalem ​I see no one…but you.”​

-

Original source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVYbsjK4nVA

[corvidaemnit]

In order to show my support for palestine, I thought I would make a post— in typical bird nerd fashion— highlighting some information about one of the many symbols of freedom for the palestinian people: the palestine sunbird.

you’ve seen this bird everywhere lately I’m sure,

so, you may be wondering.. why is this bird so important?

In 2013, Israel campaigned to remove ‘palestine’ from the bird’s name. this failed, however, when the palestine wildlife society (PWS) petitioned to instead adopt it as palestine’s national bird as a direct defiance of the campaign.

in 2015, the palestine sunbird was officially declared the national bird of palestine.

the palestinian artist khaled jarrar designed a border control stamp featuring the sunbird with which he stamped passports as a cry for freedom.

more recently, khaled jarrar has also created these postal stamps for the same message— in defiance of israel’s efforts to erase palestine.

here you can find an incredible, short documentary detailing his work across the years to use his art as a protest against the plight of the palestinian people.

another palestinian artist, rasha eleyan, uses the sunbird in her work as a motif for the strength and boldness of palestinian women:

(source)

the palestinian poet tamim al-barghouti has tied the palestine sunbird’s beauty to resilience, in saying: “whenever you face injustice or roughness, remember to defend yourself by finding beauty… document, prove, and defend it because all beauty is resistance.”

the palestine sunbird is a symbol of hope and strength. It’s a symbol of fighting back against the odds and refusal to go quietly into the night— refusal to be erased.

continue to support palestinian artists.

continue to support palestine.

raise the voices of those who now, more than ever, need to be heard.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free.

[fairuzfan]

19 October 2023: In Gaza, we have grown accustomed to war

Horrific experiences of death and destruction have permanently impacted Palestinians’ culture, language and collective memory. “Is it war again?” asks my little Amal, 7, memories of the previous Israeli assaults still fresh in her mind.

The wording of the question shows the maturity she has been forced to develop. Last year, Amal asked her mum if it was “another war.”

Yes, it is war again in Gaza! In Gaza, we have grown accustomed to war. War has become a recurrent reality, a nightmare that won’t go away. A brutal normality. War has become like a grumpy old relative, one that we can’t stand but can’t rid ourselves of either.

The children pay the heaviest price. A price of fear and nonstop trauma that is reflected in their behaviors and their reactions. It’s estimated that over 90 percent of Palestinian children in Gaza show signs of trauma. But also, specialists claim there is no post-war trauma in Gaza as the war is still ongoing.

My grandmother would tell me to put on a heavy sweater because it would rain. And it would rain! She, like all Palestinian elders, had a unique sense, an understanding of the earth, wind, trees and rain. The elders knew when to pick olives for pickling or for oil. I was always envious of that.

Sorry, Grandma. We have instead become attuned to the vagaries of war. This heavy guest visits us uninvited, unwelcomed and undesired, perches on our chests and breaths, and then claims the lives of many, in the hundreds and thousands.

A Palestinian in Gaza born in 2008 has witnessed seven wars: 2008–2009, 2012, 2014, 2021, 2022, 2023A and 2023B. And as the habit goes in Gaza, people can be seven wars old, or four wars old. My little Amal, born in 2016, now holds a BA in wars, having lived through four destructive campaigns. In Gaza, we often speak about wars in terms of academic degrees: a BA in wars, an MA in wars, and some might humorously refer to themselves as PhD candidates in wars.

Our discourse has significantly changed and shifted. At night, when Israel particularly intensifies the bombardment, it’s a “party”: “The party has begun.” “It will be a horrific party tonight.” And then there is “The Bag,” capital T and capital B. This is a bag that is hurriedly prepared to contain the cash, the IDs, the birth certificates and college diplomas. The aim is to grab the kids and one item when there is a threat of evacuation.

The collective memories and culture of Palestinians in Gaza have been substantially impacted by these horrific experiences of war and death. Most Gazans have lost family members, relatives, or loved ones or have had their homes damaged or destroyed. It’s estimated that these wars and the escalations between them have claimed the lives of over 9,000 (it was 7,500 when I started drafting this last week!) Palestinians and destroyed over 60,000 housing units.

Death and war. War and Death. These two are persona non grata, yet we can’t force them to leave. To let us be.

Palestinian poet Tamim Al-Barghouti summarizes the relationship between death and the Palestinians that war brings (my translation):

It was not wise of you, Death, to draw near.

It was not wise to besiege us all these years.

It was not wise to dwell this close,

So close we’ve memorized your visage

Your eating habits

Your time of rest

Your mood swings

Your heart’s desires

Even your frailties.

O, Death, beware!

Don’t rest that you tallied us.

We are many.

And we are still here

[Seventy] years after the invasion

Our torches are still alight

Two centuries

After Jesus went to his third grade in our land

We have known you, Death, too well.

O, Death, our intent is clear:

We will beat you,

Even if they slay us, one and all.

Death, fear us,

For here we are, unafraid.

23 October 2023: Five stages of coping with war in Gaza

Our familiarity with war in Gaza has led us to develop a unique perspective and unique coping mechanisms.

We can identify five major emotional stages that Gazans go through during these grim conflicts. The stages are denial, fear, silence, numbness, hope, despair and submission.

This is day 16 and Israel has killed more than 5,000 Palestinians (many are still unaccounted for under the rubble), including over 2,000 Palestinian children, Gaza authorities tell us. More than 15,000 were injured and over 25,000 Palestinian homes were destroyed. And Israel says it is ready for ground invasion.

Stage one: Denial

In the early stages of a crisis, there is often a sense of denial. We convince ourselves that this time won’t lead to war. People are tired of the recurring conflicts, and both sides may appear too preoccupied to engage in warfare. As missiles fall and soar, we maintain a form of partial denial, hoping that this time will not be as lengthy or devastating as past wars.

No, this time it’s not going to be war. Everyone is tired of wars. Israel is too busy to go to war.

Palestinians are too exhausted and too battered to engage in a war. It could just last five days, give or take, we hope.

Stage two: Fear

Soon, denial turns to fear as the reality of another war sets in. Gaza is paralyzed as civilians, including children, are attacked by Israeli bombs. The pictures and videos of massacres, of homes obliterated with the families inside, of high rise buildings toppled like dominoes turn the denial into utter terror.

Every strike, especially at night, means all the children wake up crying and weep. As parents, we fear for our kids and we fear we can’t protect our loved ones.

Stage three: Silence and numbness

This is when Israel particularly intensifies the bombing of civilian homes. Stories are interrupted. Prayers are cut short. Meals are left uneaten. Showers are abandoned.

Therefore, amid the chaos and danger Israel brings, many in Gaza, especially children, withdraw into silence. They find solace in solitude as means of coping with the overwhelming emotion and uncertainty that surrounds them. Silence prevails.

Then numbness follows. As people attempt to protect themselves from the constant onslaught of distressing news, they grow indifferent. Because we could die anyway, no matter where we go. Emotional numbness sets in, as individuals attempt to detach from their emotions to survive.

Stage four: Hope

In the midst of despair, glimmers of hope may emerge. Even in the darkest moments, Gazans may hold onto the belief Israel might at least kill fewer people, bomb fewer places, and damage less. The most hopeful of us wish for a lasting ceasefire or an end to the siege or even the occupation. But this is merely hope. And hope is dangerous.

We hope that politicians will man up. We hitch our hope to the masses taking to the streets to reassure their politicians and warn they will be punished in future elections if they support Israeli aggression against Palestinians in Gaza.

Stage five: Despair and submission

Unfortunately, hope can often be fleeting, and many Gazans have experienced recurring cycles of despair. The repeated loss of life, homes and security lead to deep feelings of helplessness.

In the final stage, there is a sense of submission as Gazans accept the reality that they are unable to change the situation. That they are left alone. That the world has abandoned us. That Israel can kill and destroy at large with impunity. This is a stage marked by endurance, as Palestinians strive to adapt and persevere in the face of ongoing challenges.

These stages of war have become an unfortunate part of life in Gaza, shaping the resilience and perseverance of the Palestinian people in the face of unimaginable hardships imposed by the Israeli occupation.

27 October 2023: What it’s like when Israel bombs your building

I have six children. And so far we have survived seven major Israeli escalations, unscathed. We are an average family. My wife, Nusayba, is a housewife, I have two children in college and my youngest child, Amal, is 7. In Gaza, Amal is already four wars old.

We are an average family in Gaza, but we have had our fair share of Israeli death and destruction.

So far, since the early 1970s, I have lost 20 (and 15 last week) members of my extended family due to Israeli aggression.

In 2014, Israel destroyed our family home of seven flats, killing my brother Mohammed.

In 2014, Israel killed about 20 of my wife’s family including her brother, her sister, three of her sister’s kids, her grandfather and her cousin. And destroyed several of my in-laws’ homes.

Combined, my wife and I have lost over fifty 50 members to Israeli war and terror.

2023 war on Gaza

As the bombs fall and Israel targets sleeping families in their homes, parents are torn between several issues.

Should we leave? But go where, when Israel targets evacuees on their way and targets the areas they evacuate to?

Should we stay with relatives? Or should our relatives stay with us, whose home is relatively “safe?” We can never be sure. It’s been more than 75 years of brutal occupation – and over six major Israeli military onslaughts in the past 15 years – and we have so far failed to understand Israel’s brutality and mentality of death and destruction.

And then there is the fear of what to do if – when – we are bombed. We try to evade them. But how can you evade the bombs when Israel throws three or four or five consecutive bombs at the same home.

The big question Palestinian households debate is whether we should sleep in the same room so that when we die, we die together, or whether we should sleep in different rooms so some of us may survive.

The answer is always that we need to sleep in the living room together. If we die, we die together. No one has to deal with the heartbreak.

No food. No water. No electricity.

This 2023 war is different. Israel has intensified using hunger as a weapon. By completely besieging Gaza and cutting off the electricity and water supplies and not allowing aid or imports, Israel is not only putting Palestinians on a diet, but also starving them.

In my household, and we are a well-off family, my wife and I sat with the children and explained the situation to them, especially the little ones: “We need to ration. We need to eat and drink a quarter of what we usually consume. It’s not that we do not have money, but food is running out and we barely have water.”

And good luck explaining to your 7-year-old that she can’t have her two morning eggs and instead she will be having a quarter of a bomb! (Israel later bombed the eggs.)

As a parent, I feel desperate and helpless. I can’t provide the love and protection I am supposed to give my kids.

Instead of often telling my kids “I love you,” I have been repeating for the past two weeks:

“Kids, eat less. Kids, drink less.” And I imagine this being my last thing I say to them and it is devastating.

Israel bombs our building

If we had a little food last week, now we barely have any because Israel struck our home with two missiles while we were inside. And without prior warning!

My wife Nusayba had already instructed the kids to run if a bombing happened nearby. We never expected [our building] to be hit. And that was a golden piece of advice.

I was hosting four families of relatives in my flat. Most of them were kids and women.

We ran and ran. We carried the little ones and grabbed the small bags with our cash and important documents that Gazans keep at the door every time Israel wages a war.

We escaped with a miracle, with only bruises and tiny scratches. We checked and found everyone was fine. And then we walked to a nearby UN school shelter, which was in an inhuman condition. We crammed into small classrooms with other families.

With that, we lost our last sense of safety. We lost our water. We lost our food and the remaining eggs that Amal loves.

We are an average Palestinian family. But we have had our fair share of Israeli death and destruction. In Gaza, no one is safe. And no place is safe. Israel could kill all 2.3 million of us and the world would not bat an eye.

[its-zaina]

نُـحاصَرُ مِـن أَخٍ أَو مِـن عَـدُوٍّ،

سَـنَغْلِـبُ وَحْـدَنا وَسَـيَنْدَمَـانِ.

~تميم البرغوثيّ.

We are surrounded by a brother or an enemy,

We will overcome alone, and they will regret what they did to us.

~Tamim Al-Barghouti.

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[blogtruenorth]

Hunger

The zionist public bears all the consequences of this qualitative hunger strike of over 3,000 Palestinian prisoners which came in response to the behavior of the extremist Ben-Gvir. 

Prisoner leaders will start a mass hunger strike today, one day ahead of the “Volcano of Freedom or Martyrdom” mass hunger strike. This action is headed by the leader Nael Al-Barghouti, who has spent 43 years in occupation prisons. Among the leaders who started their hunger strike today are:

🟡 Leaders of Fatah, represented by Ammar Mardi: 

- Marwan Barghouti (Member of the Fatah Central Committee)

- Nasser Abu Srour

- Mahmoud Abu Srour

- Jumaa Adam

- Mahmoud Abu Kharabeesh (member of the Fatah Revolutionary Council)

- Zakaria Al-Zubaidi (one of the Freedom Tunnel prisoners)

- Nael Abu Al-Assal (secretary of the Fatah movement in Areeha Governorate)

🟢 Leaders of Hamas, represented by Salama Al-Qatawi:

- Jamal Abu Al-Hayja

- Mahmoud Issa 

- Abbas Al-Sayed

- Ibrahim Hamed

- Hassan Salameh

- Muhammad Arman

⚫️ Leaders of PIJ, represented by Zaid Bessi: 

- Sameh Al-Shobaki

- Tamim Salem

🔴 Leaders of PFLP, represented by Walid Hanatsheh: 

- Commander Ahmed Saadat (Secretary-General of the Popular Front)

- Kamil Abu Hanish

- Ahed Abu Gholami

- Munther Mufleh

🔴 Wajdi Joudah, representative of the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine.

🔴 Basem Khandaqji, representative of the Palestinian People's Party.

The heroic prisoner Muhammad al-Tous "Abu Shadi", dean of the Palestinian prisoners detained since 1985, will start the hunger strike with them. In addition, more than two thousand Palestinian prisoners will join the mass hunger strike starting tomorrow, the first day of the blessed month of Ramadan.

[edwordsmyth]

"Nawar, do you recall, in the last war, you used to scatter seeds in the open? When I asked what you were doing, you said: If the sky is filled with birds, perhaps the warplanes won’t see us through them…" -Tamim al-Barghouti

[heba-mustafaa]

حُسْنُ المها زاد على ما وَجَبَا

لو كان للجبال قلبٌ وَجَبَا

أعطيته الجزيةَ عمري وَجَبَى

ففيمَ يَرمِي بالسهام والقَنَا

Tamim Al-Barghouti💙

[ildalil]

Palestinian poet Tamim Barghouti: Just as the Houthis defeated the Saudi army, the resistance will defeat the occupation army in Gaza.

The Palestinian poet Tamim Al-Barghouti stated on Al-Jazeera Channel what he cited as evidence of the defeat of the Saudi army in front of Ansar Allah fighters in Yemen as a living witness to the resistance’s ability to defeat and defeat the occupation army. The Palestinian poet Tamim Al-Barghouti stated on Al-Jazeera Channel what he cited as evidence of the defeat of the Saudi army in front of Ansar Allah fighters in Yemen as a living witness to the resistance’s ability to defeat and defeat the occupation army. #Palestinian #poet #Tamim #Barghouti #Houthis #defeated #Saudi #army #resistance #defeat #occupation #army #Gaza, WORLD NEWS EGYPT NEWS ARAB MEDIA Read the full article

[sadflower89]

ورُبّ خوفٍ في القلبِ أجملُ من

شجاعةٍ لو أمعنتَ في مَعناه

كخوفِ أمٍّ على ابنِها فإذا

ما ماتَ عنْها ما عادَ ما تخْشاه

[polarabicpoetry]

Egyptian Palestinian Poet Tamim Al Barghouti’s beautiful prose recital during the closing ceremony of FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022 December 18th. ما الذي يدعو المتعبين إلى اللعب؟ما الذي يدعو الحزين إلى الغناء؟وما الذي يأتي بشاعر مثلي إلى احتفال كهذا؟اللعب.. زيارة قصيرة إلى عالم بديلساعتان من ��لمساواة والعدلفلا ترى فريقا يلع�� بأحذية نفاثة مثلا، وفريقا حافياولا فريقا مسموحا له بالركض في طول الملعب وعرضهوآخر يحتاج لاعبوه تأشيرات ليجتازوا خط الوسطوعندما تكون الكرة في الميدان فالتسديد مسموح به للفريقين وفي النهاية يبقى الجميع بصحة جيدةلم يسل إلا العرق ولم يعلُ الصراخ إلا تطوعاليست هذه لعبة يا سادةهو شيء تقترحه هذه البلاد والشعوببل لا تزال تقترحه البشرية على نفسها منذ كانتحلم عمره ساعتان وعمره الأبديقترب كلما حاولوا إبعاده..هذا الذي يدعو المتعبين إلى اللعبوهذا هو الفوز الحقيقي في نهاية المطاف

English translation via his official Facebook: “What brings the tired to play what brings the sad to sing and what brings a poet like me to a place like this? Playing is a short visit to an alternative world Equality and fairness, if only for a couple of hours … Here, you don’t see a team equipped with supersonic boots against a  team that must play barefoot Nor a team allowed to freely run around the pitch  against a team who need visas to cross the midline When the ball is on the field both teams are allowed to hit it… And when all is done, everyone is in good health… Nothing is shed but sweat, and cries are entirely voluntary Friends! This is no game, it is a proposal these lands and peoples present. A world humanity keeps proposing to itself It is a dream that lives for a couple of  hours, yet it is a dream that has lived since the beginning of time. This is what calls the tired to play. And this, to be honest, is the worthiest of wins."

[baibars-47]

و لم أكتُبِ الشعرَ فيكي و لكن ْأحَبكِ من نفسِه فانكتب I didn’t write poetry for you but It loved you so it wrote itself

Tamim Al-Barghouti

[thedancemostofall]

A Small Eternity

Alone, soaring, my balcony a cloud in the sky’s gentle hold, I look out on a beach, a paradise where the green (whispering, roaring) has said all it has to say. A green that almost glows with pistachio-colored edges. A green that suckles, crawls, grows into bright apricot and enters an ornate rust like an overripe pomegranate skin. A greyish green escaping a blend of blue, a pearly green that leans into copper, a translucent grape-green that leans into I don’t know what. The forests rest in slopes that touch the lake’s silence from all sides, and the scents of flowers ascend from the mountain’s foot toward me, high as earth-bound birds.

The mountains look ancestral, like our grandfathers who typically know their places,   the mountains are epochs, and if you look closely, they’re the body of time itself. Adorned with boats, the lake’s water resembles a granddaughter’s dress. Half-asleep she listens to the mountains tell their magical stories as the shy breeze floats (through the villages around the water’s arc) almost apologetic for the rustle of leaves.

And I, with two wings that happened suddenly, soar overlooking this vastness, and having become a bird perhaps, I get to realize what a bird’s view is, for now. I said this is a morning of tenderness for those who observe it, of scenes that grow tender for one another. I would need a year to learn the names of these trees, plants, blooms, and birds, a year to learn my name here. Here, poetry is perfected, so write as you desire, stranger, the alphabet desires you here.

I contemplated my body, and it confused me: under the buttons of this light shirt there’s a present like a knee that’s hit the marble, and there’s a fearsome past like a wolf that thinks of a child and insists that I call it a future. There are my people’s houses that have swapped people, and losses are arranged like dictionaries on the shelves.

I shut my body, but my eyes stay open like my mother’s window which never watched her grandchildren play in the garden— though she did witness Yahweh’s Army play with our days, and she lived the reversal of attributes, the victim’s corruption from head to toe, and the collapse of yearnings and roofs.

Under the buttons of this light shirt, I continue the work of the living:   I keep Radwa warm, Majid stays late at my house, and Umm Munif picks flowers from her garden as she waits for Munif.   Here we are walking together in the mountains’ morning, we talk and listen, tire, slow down, rest, rush, rage and forgive, we forget, get lost a little, ask for directions, recite one of Al-Mutanabbi’s lines, and laugh at a joke that merges with our tears.

Can I change death’s mind and convince it of its failure? Can death believe I’m walking with my departed’s feet? Because my steps are their steps, and my eyes are their eyes, and this poem is their listening. Do I convince death that they’re happening to me now like salvation or an embrace? They’re happening to me now so that together we may bear the burden of this unbearable beauty, a small eternity surprises us in this instant indeed: Tamim is about to take a photo . . . and I say, Hold on a second:

I will fix Radwa’s collar, draw Munif and my mother closer to me, and move the tallest, my father and Majid, to the center. Can death be persuaded that we’ve been resurrected whole, slipped from its hands, and flown with the birds? Above the lake, we became lake, became mountains and shadows, and sidewalk cafés.

Here I am banishing longing from my language. Longing, the confession that breaks place in two, the body in two, the self in two. The riverbank is the river. Without it, we don’t call it a river. The mountains become mountains only with their valleys. And the flowers, don’t they need stems to bloom? Doesn’t a hilt need a sword to live? Who can separate the bird from the possibilities of wings, and the waves from the sea? Who now can separate ship from water? Who says spring is the absence of summer? Who separates clouds from shades of white? There’s no halo in the sky without a moon at its heart.

Did I just say this or did my departed improvise it? I’m not sure, but I don’t miss them— they’re here under the buttons of my light shirt.

Mourid Barghouti,  August 17

Translated by Zeina Hashem Beck

https://thebaffler.com/logical-revolts/a-small-eternity-barghouti

[itranslate94]

My English translation of the last minute of Tamim al-Barghouti's video on AJ+

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[carmen-berzattos]

Do you know any contemporary Arab poets? Every time I ask for recommendations, people give me very old ones and I don't understand a thing from their work lol

Hello! Sorry for the delay in response, my brain was having a Moment.

Yes, I do have a few suggestions. I get what you mean, sometimes I read old Arabic poetry and even though I worked as an Arabic teacher for like 5 years and have had spent most of my life in an Arab country, I feel like I’m reading something from a completely different language lol. 

Anyway, here’s a list! These are contemporary-ish, in the sense that they emerged in the last century but are not with us anymore: 

Nizar Qabbani (نزار قباني): An absolute classic, of course. His love poems are quite good and he’s very accessible. If you go on YouTube, you’ll find quite a few audio recordings of him reciting his own poems and I absolutely, 100% recommend dedicating some time to just hearing him read his work. 

Mahmoud Darwish (محمود درويش): Also an absolute classic, probably the most influential Palestinian poet ever. He has more diverse subjects than Nizar. And I think his writing is a little more intense. 

Badr Shakir al-Sayyab (بدر شاكر السياب): I’m particularly biased toward him because he’s from Iraq. Amazing, amazing, amazing. A must-read is أنشودة المطر (or Rain Song). Fun fact: he was my grandfather’s middle school teacher. 

Nazik Al-Malaika (نازك الملائكة): She’s also Iraqi, and one of the first people to write in free-verse. Very influential in that way, since there is question about the origin of free-verse and it’s sometimes rumored that she was the one who popularized it. Academic hot takes for you lmao

May Ziadah (مي زياة): Now she was more of a prose person, but she has excellent writings. If nothing else, look into her love affair with Mahmoud Al-Akkad, and later on with Jibran Khalil Jibran. With Jibran, they never even met but loved each other through written correspondence for like 20 years, until he passed away. Jibran lived most of his life either in Paris or in New York or both, I cant really remember. 

Tamim al-Barghouti (تميم البرغوثي): Check him out for extremely politically charged poetry. He’s Palestinian, too, and is fairly young and still active. 

For some reason, I can’t think of anyone from Egypt, right now, except for ‘Ahmad Shawki, who even though is hailed as the Prince of Poets, I personally find his work boring. I feel like I’m obviously missing a big name from Egypt, but all I can think of is novelists from Egypt so, who knows. 

Anyway, hope you find something to enjoy !

[fanackwebsite]

Palestinian Poet Tamim al-Barghouti: the People’s Poet

Palestinian Poet Tamim al-Barghouti: the People’s Poet

Soon after the coup, al-Barghouti began translating many of his poems into English with the help of his mother. Reflecting on the experience, he said that his mother alleviated the difficulty of translating emotions and myths that he prefers to convey in Arabic. “She would liberate me from this feeling I get whenever I’m speaking in English or writing in English, which is that I’m swimming in a sea of jelly,” he said.

#AbdelFattahAlSisi #ArabSpring #MohamedMorsi #TamimAlBarghouti

Read more: http://bit.ly/2OrOyzo