I'm here and not here
This is a translation of one of my posts in Arabic, done by a dear friend of mine, Arch.memory, whose presence these days made this crisis a little more bearable. thx you Ash, thx you to all friends and strangers who have been sending to check on me as well.
I’m here now. From the other side of the sea, from the second face of the moon. Where everything is sweet, and calm, even if always cold.
I had to leave, you know.
Everyone was taking a bite off this land. And I… couldn’t stand it anymore.
The scene at the border was painful.
They all wanted to stay; they all had to leave.
I wanted to call out to them, I was about to hold their shoulders, shake them like this, and yell at them: “How could you? Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves?” I forgot that I, too, with the departing am departing.
The worst way for one to travel is by boat, you know? The plane, a few minutes and you’re flying. The car, a step on the fuel and you go. But on the boat, you stay standing, contemplating the marina, against your will… Looking at the land getting further away, at the people getting smaller, at a hand waving, and a hand, choked, that couldn’t wave. At a bag flying in the air, at a girl pinning laundry on a clothesline, at shuttered houses with no girl pinning laundry or clotheslines. Looking at your dream that they lost… At your dream that, maybe, you let get lost.
He didn’t understand me, my friend at the airport, when my head fell onto his shoulder, and I started to sob.
No, I’m not glad to be safe now. I am upset, I am crestfallen, I am choked from the inside…I am here in safety, and you are still over there. I am here a living illusion, no more, but you are at least alive. I am here but not worth more than five minutes of the news. I am a number. We are all numbers. Our identity is corpses and the stone that is shattering… Here were are barbarians, we don’t know how to live together, don’t know how to love. We don’t know that a homeland comes, always, before religion…
Me?
I’m here and not there
Here and not here
Here forgetting myself there
Never here
Always, with you, there
I’m starting to ramble. You take care of yourself. Do sing me that song from time to time… if you still sing.
I’m here now. From the other side of the sea, from the second face of the moon. Where everything is sweet, and calm, even if always cold.
I had to leave, you know.
Everyone was taking a bite off this land. And I… couldn’t stand it anymore.
The scene at the border was painful.
They all wanted to stay; they all had to leave.
I wanted to call out to them, I was about to hold their shoulders, shake them like this, and yell at them: “How could you? Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves?” I forgot that I, too, with the departing am departing.
The worst way for one to travel is by boat, you know? The plane, a few minutes and you’re flying. The car, a step on the fuel and you go. But on the boat, you stay standing, contemplating the marina, against your will… Looking at the land getting further away, at the people getting smaller, at a hand waving, and a hand, choked, that couldn’t wave. At a bag flying in the air, at a girl pinning laundry on a clothesline, at shuttered houses with no girl pinning laundry or clotheslines. Looking at your dream that they lost… At your dream that, maybe, you let get lost.
He didn’t understand me, my friend at the airport, when my head fell onto his shoulder, and I started to sob.
No, I’m not glad to be safe now. I am upset, I am crestfallen, I am choked from the inside…I am here in safety, and you are still over there. I am here a living illusion, no more, but you are at least alive. I am here but not worth more than five minutes of the news. I am a number. We are all numbers. Our identity is corpses and the stone that is shattering… Here were are barbarians, we don’t know how to live together, don’t know how to love. We don’t know that a homeland comes, always, before religion…
Me?
I’m here and not there
Here and not here
Here forgetting myself there
Never here
Always, with you, there
I’m starting to ramble. You take care of yourself. Do sing me that song from time to time… if you still sing.
posted by Eve @ 7/22/2006 10:20:00 PM
4 Comments:
salut eve,
qu'il aillent tous au diable!
le Liban restera debout, on pense a vous , on est avec vous éternellement, même si on se sent impuissant lâche et sans voix devant cette infamie!!
Rien ne pourra détruire le Liban ni les libanais, vous n'etes pas seul, on vie avec vous!!
Courage, il y a sûrement une foutue justice quelque part!!
a home land is a religion on its own
I hope you go back "there" and sing once more
Your words overwhelm me with the pictures they evoke of the suffering and terror you (you singulalrly and you Lebanon) feel and are experiencing.
To be caught between warring factions and have no voice or to be disregarded by others who feel...ah I don't know. I admit this president of ours confounds me with his indifference as does Hezbollah dconfound me with its indifference to your suffering.
I am a military veteran, vietnam was the war of choice then. I didn't fight fortunatelyh. As I get older, I get more disgusted with wars to end wars and free people.
Enough of me. Thank you for your words. I hope some day to see them in a book, for you are a very good writer. Perhaps the world will see them and appreciate your loss and heed the lessons.
angelus,
quelque part.. mais ou? merci, le liban survivra evidemment!
white wings,
a religion I wish had universal followers.
enriqueta,
I hope we'll have that coffee some day..
thank you anonymous, there's nothing more discusting than wars indeed.
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