|
His little washed up body won't go away with the next wave
Because I can't make him other His little shoes Are just like... You know I cried in the shower Because the curve of his spine And the shape of his head Are just the same as...
0 Comments
Islam Pacification and surrender to the divine Looking for the moon as a sign And following the sun as it crosses the sky It's not about making time for some worship It's about synchronizing my time to the divine Following the holy flow The drumbeats and chanting of the cosmos Paralyzing the limiting mind Performing acts that first seem senseless to the selfish senses Preparing to break free By the grace of Allah Another home has turned into an empty house before my eyes I walk through the cold structure making sure we are leaving nothing behind We get used to places But are destined to leave One day even this body will stop being home Nothing but a bunch of bones I prefer the term 'North Africa and Southwest Asia' (NASWA) to 'the Middle East' (the region is only the Middle East from a Western European perspective but not, say, from a Chinese one). Nevertheless, despite its problematic title, this website is a very good source of poetry from the region, updated regularly with new entries. Any effort to celebrate the beauty and diversity of the cultures found in this region is to be encouraged at a time when they are under existential threat from violent extremists of all sorts, from inside the region and from abroad.
Here are the links: http://middleeasternpoetry.tumblr.com/ https://www.facebook.com/middleeasternpoetry Casablanca I’m packing my bags and selling my furniture again After two years it’s time to go home Not that I wouldn’t like to stay I haven’t grown tired of your endless cafés Palm trees Minarets Beachside juices Crazy taxi rides Fast deals Dreams of Paris New York Dubai Mecca… Silent Sufis Loud weddings Drums and beggars Loyalists royalists and football hooligans White walls Intersections tram stations train stations bus stations ports and airport You’ve been generous to me Kind Even caring sometimes A base for me to explore this holy country even more No I haven’t tired of you Casa I just have things I’ve got to do Back home Sure I could be critical Poverty humiliation crime impatience vanity and envy Plague you I know But I also know you are doing your blessed best And after you let me in As a son not as a guest I can’t separate myself from your warm noons and cold nights Broken sidewalks Slaughtered sheep heads roasting on charcoal and the smell of burning hair everywhere Stray cats Pushers Young women desperate to go up or get out Frightened boys inhaling glue And saints oh yes your saints All are mixed into my body now I am part of the problem and solution Casablanca you’ve become one of those cities I can never really leave Salam Alors que vous vous demandez
Si cette femme arabe a le droit de considérer Que ses cheveux font partie de sa nudité À couvrir par pudeur et pour préserver Sons sens de l’honneur Et de l’identité Ses sœurs sont attaquées partout Ses filles Ses fils Ses frères Sous pression Accusés De vouloir perpétuer Les supposées superstitions de leurs grand-mères Encouragés à cracher Sur leurs grands-pères J’ai connu des Arabes au moins par milliers Et je n’ai pas trouvé ces femmes soumises faibles et idiotes Que vous me décriviez Je n’ai trouvé que des femmes et des hommes sous pression Trop souvent sur le point d’exploser Toujours exposés à des indignités Quotidiennes banales incisives excessives C’est avec leurs vêtements qu’on fait notre lessive Ce sont leurs corps que traversent nos innombrables controverses Nos guerres froides chaudes financées libératrices impérialistes économiques et culturelles Ont excité leurs fanatismes Mis en danger les subtilités Et pourtant la nuance est toute Arabe Les arabesques et les broderies Les savants mélanges d’épices Le soufisme Tout est menacé Par l’intégrisme Le libéralisme Le néocolonialisme occidentaliste Les wahhabites sont votre miroir patriarcal Vous vous complétez Vous vous embrassez Vous vous embrasez Vous vous encouragez À détruire l’Irak la Syrie le Yémen Et votre viol pénètre masculinement l’Afrique De l’Égypte au Nigéria Mais restons concentrés sur les Arabes pour l’instant Qui vous étonnent tant De résister encore Après plus de 500 ans En refusant encore trop souvent De prendre pour unique modèle l’homme blanc Je sais en occident presque tout le monde Et depuis longtemps A adopté le modèle de la chapelle Sixtine Le Bon Dieu blanc barbu Touchant de son doigt viril Son lieutenant imberbe Pas de hijab ici Même les féministes sont tombées sous le charme de cette nudité musclée En occident que l’on soit blanc brun noir femme ou enfant Il faut aspirer à être égal disons pareil à ces hommes blancs Renaissants modernes divinement humanisés Et voilà que des femmes brunes et voilées Osent se différencier Jusque dans nos terres javellisées Nos tribunaux aseptisés Normal nos juges sont scandalisés Et nos journalistes fascinés À la vue de ces fichus Alors que moi à Casa je vois se refermer les forces divisées D’un grand sandwich mondialisé La tranche du haut est un Arabe occidentalisé Celle du bas un réformiste musulman violent Entre les deux trop de salade et de viande arabe Et au-delà Les dents d’un géant blanc I just didn’t fully appreciate the value of water back in Canada From dust and crust They keep coming with their dry mouths and broken shoes From the cold mountain tops They storm the walls of Ceuta and all over the world They cross deserts, drown in the seas, walk along highways, hide in steel boxes They come from the jungles, the mountains, the fields Filling the slums of Cairo, Port-au-Prince and all the cities with flashy dreams Of soft feet and proper teeth And leftovers, lots of leftovers They won't stop coming while we dig our pools Choose good schools Choose a movie Choose a skirt Choose a cruise Choose a dessert They sweat and spit They don't have running water They want our stuff They just keep coming Turn on the light Check the closet Look under the bed Build more jails Higher walls Shoot to kill They just keep coming The guy standing behind the garbage bins
So intoxicated he has wet himself And can hardly move Was he ever like my baby boy Simple full of joy? The pain Allah The pain Casablanca the winter is over and I’m still here
After three quarters of a year You handle so many contradictions with style I must admit You’re not bad looking From the right angles Even beautiful But you don’t hide your ugly sides well I guess you can’t Busy trying to cope with your own impatient cadence And the constant arrival of people Rich and poor Mostly poor Hoping for more Biting smiling selling screaming Casablanca I’m caught in your hectic dance Like any immigrant I’m ambivalent Good days and bad Today for a moment I broke out of you to notice the ocean As I often have over the months Still there So much bigger deeper longer in its breaths It could just take over and bust the whole place up And sometimes it does strike a few blows But mostly it respects the tiny shoreline boundary Accepting To remain a reminder for us Of other cycles Other scales of being Anyway, Casablanca, I’m still here Now watching your children clean beach chairs Preparing for the summer I haven’t taken you all in You escape my rational mind traps Too slow for you I have no choice but to return to poetry To know you I’ve got to tell you I see a lot of violence Barbarians everywhere At least it seems to me that’s how you treat them They are hungry Casablanca And speak the languages of your ancestors Your own deep thoughts use the same North African tongues No matter how much French you use And how many monuments you keep to praise the invaders your forefathers kicked out Just a few decades ago You are so colonial—it really upsets me—I don’t know whether to scream or cry But who am I? After all when my life broke down in Canada You welcomed me a refugee and have treated me hospitably ever since I came to you like so many others with ambitions and aspirations I must really try to be helpful Because you, Casablanca, and cities like you Probably hold the future of humanity within your ever-expanding bosoms Here is where we make it or break it All or nothing Casablanca you are exciting I think I’ll stay a while Inshallah |
AuthorTransdisciplinary scholar of Islam and Sufism. Archives
April 2016
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed