(Our) HISTORY (is Theirs)

(Their) STORY (is Ours)

for all refugees and those who seek asylum

Global Rights 

 

1

 

There is this thin line called

the corpus callosum.

It transects both the geography

and blind terror

of a displaced mind.

 

There is, also,  Citizen,

this imaginary place

called East and West.

 

Here your patience must wait

for a future condemned

to be force-fed

on the futile fear of the mindless,

mediated now between the meridians

of thought and thoughtlessness.

 

If you woke alone in

this no-man's-land

it would hiss hatred

at your presence

like an angry snake

disturbed by its own

selfish sleep.

 

Here

we must all seek rest

somewhere between memory

and trauma

and the strange yet familiar

sound of screeching voices,

where nothing spoken will ever

make much sense.

 

Somehow here, mein Führer,

all our words are taken

hostage.

 

Our Being, already mute with the

chatter of speechlessness,

is now made unbearable with

the lobotomy of borders... (contd.)

"Refugees" Morris Topchevsky (1939-1940)

 

FULL POEM (& Links) 

 

Louis Guglielmi - Refugees (1939)

THIS PORNOGRAPHY They CALL “PEACE”

Tabreen School Building, Gaza City, 10th August, 2024,

the day Israel killed countless Palestinian children, women and men, sheltering in the School. 

THIS PORNOGRAPHY They CALL “PEACE”

 "When the voice of peace is kept in a cage with its mouth shut tight its tongue turning to stone its words tied in knots this cage where lies are weapons and common sense tells your kind neighbour to “shut the fuck up” when the voice of peace grows hoarse with the noise of airstrikes and the catastrophic cacophony of the screaming missiles (“these blankets contain body parts of civilians the Israeli army perpetrated a massacre - Anas Al Sharif in the bombed al-Tabin School School Building) when the voice of peace will soon no longer even be told to shut up nor beaten from the streets because these streets have swallowed all our dreams someone forgot to wake a long long time ago while the world was falling asleep... "

(Al Jazeera - August 10, 2024)

...in front of the TV screen when the music of peace is dressed in the business-as-usual of commodities in salesmen and arms dealers in press release and spokesmen when the sad strange music of peace is strangled at birth (“sheltering inside the school building victims were torn to pieces and medical teams collected the body parts that were scattered all over as we speak” -  Anas Al Sharif) when the cry of peace turns into a child torn to pieces or her speechless father and mother giving birth in a bloodbath (“paramedics say that they haven't been able to find a dead body that is still whole” - Anas Al Sharif) when the cruel crimes of peace are celebrated by billionaires and bankers and butchers in luxury hotels and dined on countless disasters and the pitiless philosophy of power and profit (“the school building is strewn with body parts and paramedics say that they haven't been able to find a dead body that is still whole” - Anas Al Sharif)...

(Al Jazeera)

Global Rights - Full Poem (& Links)

Gaza, Palestine

 Another Unwritten Lament

Gaza, Palestine - Another Unwritten Lament 

"Here a god wretched with wrath walks.

Here without mercy or redemption a savage 

religion with a voice of thunder.

Here desolation descends among the people

like a prophet from the old bible:

(My son, I buried him here

with my own hands...

I found your grave, Saleh.

I found your grave, my beloved son.)"

 

(Middle East Eye - July 12, 2024) 

The Lament

 “I found your grave, my beloved son.”

A Palestinian mother bids farewell to her son

 “My son is here

O Saleh, Oh Saleh

– there is no god but God

May God be pleased with you,

Saleh.

 

My son, I buried him here

with my own hands…

I found your grave, Saleh.

I found your grave, my beloved son.

 

My soul, my son, the joy of

my heart.

My beloved son.

My soul.

My Heart.

My beloved.

 

I swear my son, I cannot

sleep at night

when you come to my mind.

I swear my son, I cannot sleep at night.

 

The joy of my heart, Salah.

The joy of my heart.

My dear, my precious, my light.

My handsome Salah, the light of my life.

 

God willing. my son, you are

in the highest ranks of paradise.

 

My dear, I am patient.

I entrusted you to God my dear.

And I did what you wanted, my soul.

But I am saddened.”

(Anonymous)

 -----  

"In recent conflicts, such indirect deaths range from three to 15 times the number of direct deaths. Applying a conservative estimate of four indirect deaths per one direct death to the 37 396 deaths reported, it is not implausible to estimate that up to 186 000 or even more deaths could be attributable to the current conflict in Gaza. Using the 2022 Gaza Strip population estimate of 2 375 259, this would translate to 7·9% of the total population in the Gaza Strip. A report from Feb 7, 2024, at the time when the direct death toll was 28 000, estimated that without a ceasefire there would be between 58 260 deaths (without an epidemic or escalation) and 85 750 deaths (if both occurred) by Aug 6, 2024."  

The Lancet (July 5, 2024)

 Global Right - Full Poem (& Links)