a shell for a house

The snail he lives in his hard round house,
In the orchard, under the tree;
Says he: “I have but a single room,
But it’s large enough for me.”

far too often we tend to forget how blessed we are. if you are reading this right now you probably own a device that can access the internet. if you do, then you are one of those fortunate few who have access to global information 24/7. that is to say, you are not oblivious to the going ons in the world around you. therefore, you witness our planet as a stage upon which tragedy, beauty and comedy are mixed together at the same time. and you watch…and wonder whether you are able to influence these going ons, to eradicate the tragic element.

at least i do!

far too often, you’re just too late to do anything about it. and it starts with the tiniest creature that you find helplessly and cruelly crushed in the middle of the pavement. you might laugh (which is the comedic part), but this snail simply wanted to cross over this concrete desert to enter into his very own promised land. it’s not like he took all his belongings, like the tv set, computer, ipod, ipad, clothes, food etc.

he simply took one thing: his home.

how often do we wish we could just take home with us?

immigrants and asylum seekers from around the world are forced to take only what’s necessary with them. for most of them, their homes were crushed long ago. some carry a reminder of that distant place known as home, like a talisman made by the daughter or son. like the snail, the immigrants travel on their own, eventually meeting up with fellow travelers.

there is a certain beauty in their struggle to leave their loved ones and risk everything to simply get somewhere where they can LIVE…and work to feed their families. the snail, with the morning sunrays shining on its awesomely constructed, glittering shell, is beautiful in its own way. the slime signaling the path it has travelled, like an airplane leaving patterns in the sky.

the majority of immigrants do not make it to this promised land. or they come to the realization that the land they arrived in is just another version of the hell they’ve been through. there are some places where they are forced to live in old shipping containers.

now try telling yourself that you are a much higher life form compared to snails. as humans we might not be crushing another human beings homes (though that frequently does happen!). as humans we crush other people’s hopes. and a life without hope is truly worthless. it’s a brutal murder of dreams, desires and the belief that beyond the concrete desert there IS something better.

i did not see a living snail this morning. i saw a crushed shell with the remains of once was a snail with the most basic dreams…perhaps. i prefer to see my day start with something else than the encounter of death in its tiniest form. however, the sunrays did still shine on this creature and allowed me to ponder the meaning of tragedy when all hope is absent.

the truth is that we can lose everything…our home…our belongings…our excess of stuff…but we just cannot lose hope…in whatever it is that drives you to crossing that concrete desert EVERY day to move one step closer toward your dreams.

and so this is why, whenever i see a snail that is alive and making slow progress toward where it wants to get to, i pick it up and place it where i think it might do better. as humans it’s difficult sometimes to drop our arrogance. our lives should be a journey in which we learn to listen to the stories of others and give them a continued reason to hope!

change begins with writing a new story for mankind, where tragedy only features as a catalyst to bring us all closer together.   

To read up on a recent immigrant story, follow the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/23/world/europe/malta-struggles-under-wave-of-african-migrants.html?_r=0

a stone for a pillow

A Mirror for the Twentieth Century

A coffin that wears the face of a child,
a book
written inside the guts of a crow,
a beast trudging forward, holding a flower,
a stone
breathing inside the lungs of a madman.
This is it.
This is the twentieth century.

A Prophecy

To the country dug into our lives like a grave,
to the country etherized, and killed,
a sun rises from our paralyzed history
into our millennial sleep.

A sun without a prayer
that kills the sand’s longevity, and the locusts
and time bursting out of the hills,
and time drying out on the hills
like fungus.

A sun that loves maiming and murder,
that rises from there, behind that bridge…

Both poems written by Adonis.

A Stone for a Pillow

At dusk

the day kisses me good night

and beneath the sands of time

a stone for a pillow she finds

to fall asleep.

With only darkness left

wild dreams spin around above the world

but a ladder of hope rises up into the skies

where she meets

the dawn of a new chapter  

for our lives.

Generally, September carries dark notations, especially for Europeans. This has to do with the start of autumn and the realization that another warm, sunny season is over. The trees begin their own shedding process and leaves change colours as if they were being painted by angels. Eventually, the wind sweeps them off their branches and they fall upon the earth. This fall is significant…why else would the alternative name for autumn be FALL?

Each season has its ups and downs - an old cliché. Yet this September we are drawn back to the reality that change always comes at a high cost. And more than often, change is accompanied by a drop…or rather drops of blood…and a fall…a decline…a painful rejuvenation process that takes its toll.

This month, attention has been drawn towards the Arab world once again. And once again, the Western world does not receive a well-balanced perspective on why things are spiraling out of control. Indeed, one may ask why days that began with hope face nights with bloodshed and other aggressions.   

The above poems by the great Syrian poet Adonis reflect the faint pessimism embedded in a people who are going through a process similar to that of the autumn leaves. And it comes without saying that any revolution in the books of history faced similar trials and tribulations. Hence one could even call it ‘The Mirror of the Twenty First Century’. A revolution can only succeed if there are leaders willing to take responsibility and people, who are willing to place their faith in that leadership and collectively believe in the same values and ideals.

I stumbled upon an article by Fouad Ajami, Senior Fellow at Stanford University, in which he attempts to explain “why the Arab world is so easily offended”. In it, he reminds the reader of the proud Arab history…the momentous contributions that the Arab people made to the world...and how, after many centuries of cultural domination, they were overcome by the relentless Western colonialism.

He writes:

“In the narrative of history transmitted to schoolchildren throughout the Arab world and reinforced by the media, religious scholars and laymen alike, Arabs were favored by divine providence. They had come out of the Arabian Peninsula in the 7th century, carrying Islam from Morocco to faraway Indonesia. In the process, they overran the Byzantine and Persian empires, then crossed the Strait of Gibraltar to Iberia, and there they fashioned a brilliant civilization that stood as a rebuke to the intolerance of the European states to the north. Cordoba and Granada were adorned and exalted in the Arab imagination. Andalusia brought together all that the Arabs favored — poetry, glamorous courts, philosophers who debated the great issues of the day.”

Personally, I know little of the Arab world and I do not profess to be an expert. Nonetheless, I find it fascinating how the Western world, after an entire century filled with wars and radical technological, historical, and scientific advancement, still acts like the Great Inquisitor with the mind-set of a crusader. There is no way to justify what is going on in the Arab world at the moment, but one cannot just sit and let things pass you by. One must question the process of revolution and how it can be successfully carried out…and then establish a structure in which people are treated with their God-given human rights.

Too many times, I fear, we forget that the ordinary person is at the mercy of the big boys’ gambling table. Diplomats put on a poker face hoping that the other won’t call their bluff.  Gaining the trust of the people is something every leader has to go through. Nowadays it is difficult to tell whether the person is genuine and will follow through on his/her promises. The revolution ultimately comes down to the people and their vision. In the Arab world, this is a highly strenuous task, due to the tribal and religious background. Not all Arabs are Muslims. Vice versa, not all Muslims are Arabs. And when one does a little research one will find out that, despite what Muslims may or may not believe, there is a profound truth which stands out: The prophet Mohammed united a divided people and led them away from idol worship towards believing in one God.

In that sense, there was once a great Arab revolution. And I believe people everywhere in the world often place their hopes into the wrong hands. We must be careful who we share our dreams with. At the end of the day, any of us can begin a revolution. That isn’t the point! The start of something is useless without an ending which makes it all worthwhile. We have got to remember that there is always a lengthy process involved and one must be adequately prepared. One has to be in it for the long haul.

The leaves they fall. They are covered by snow. They decompose. With the first sunlight, the spirit of the past returns and with it, the trees bloom again and beauty lives on.

Nature can be the blue-print of the present and the future. And we can only pray for a better present and future for those who have the guts to stand up for their rights…and fight for the freedom they deserve.