Palestinian Poetry

The Butterfly’s Burden by Mahmoud Darwish

My book club with Merton PSC decided to read some poetry written by a Palestinian. There were so many suggestions. It was tough to pick a book, but we had a poll and this one won.

I’m not going to lie, I found this hard to understand. I was really pleased that other people were also reading it, and that we were meeting to talk about it.

We started the meeting by noticing some themes that repeat throughout:

- Exile and longing for homeland

- Waiting, even when you don’t want to

- Freedom, or lack of freedom, yet constantly roads, and walls

- Use of many myths and stories

- Secularism; though God and religion are mentioned, it’s never in terms of prayer

- Gazelle — we looked up the symbolism: beauty, longing, freedom, elegance

There were few others that we just mentioned in passing like flute, Phoenix, as well as Troy, etc… The author has lived in many places around the world. We could say he was well travelled. This shows in his poetry. And it seems he had equal respect for all traditions and cultures, combining them to express his suffering and hope.

Reading the poems out loud made a world of difference. Somehow they made more sense when I was listening to them. The thought of organising a poetry reading event crossed my mind.

We turned our attention to the longest poem in the book ‘A State of Siege’.

“…we do what the prisoners do,

And what the unemployed do:

We nurture hope”

So from the beginning this poem had us deep in thought. These lines were clear and very easy to relate to.

“A country on the verge of dawn,

We have become less intelligent,

Because we stare into victory’s hour:

No night in our artillery-glistened night

Our enemies are sleepless,

And our enemies ignite the light for us

In the blackness of shelters

*

Here, after Job’s poems we waited for no one…

*

Here, no ‘I’

Here ‘Adam’ recalls his clay

*

This siege will extend until we teach our enemies

Paradigms of our Jahili poetry”

A country on the verge of dawn that has no night, because the night is set a light by the sleepless enemy, and the blackness of shelters is also set alight. It sounds hopeful and hopeless at the same time.

The last lines were a bit confusing because we didn’t know enough about Jahili poetry. However, it seems the poet thought that the solution is in there somewhere. So, I’ve left a note to look into Jahili poetry a bit more.

“In siege, life becomes the time

Between remembering life’s beginning

And forgetting its end…

*

Life.

Life in its entirety,

Life with its shortcomings,

Hosts neighbouring stars

That are timeless…

And immigrant clouds

That are placeless.

And life here

Wonders:

How do we bring it back to life!”

Again, a few lines that speak for themselves. To see life as nothing more but time, and not even time, but time between remembering the beginning and forgetting the end. And life that wonders how to be life, even though life has its shortcomings. Plus, the image of the host’s timeless stars, and the immigrant’s placeless clouds.

“No Homeric echo to a thing here.

Myths knock on our doors when we need them

No Homeric echo to a thing…

Here a general excavates for a country sleeping

Beneath the rubble of the upcoming Troy”

We spoke about these lines a fair bit. Clearly it is with reference to the Iliad, and it seems to be about how there is nothing noble about this fight. ‘Upcoming Troy’ could be about the fall of Troy, and destruction of something amazing. Or about the rebirth of Troy, and rebuilding something amazing.

“The soldiers measure the distance between being

And non being

With a tank’s scope…

*

We measure the distance between our bodies

And mortar shells… with sixth sense”

These lines sum it up — the soldiers are measuring the distance between life and death of another using high tech equipment, while the target (the author and those with him), measure their staying alive or being shot using sixth sense.

“You standing at the doorstep, enter

And drink Arabic coffee with us

(you might sense you’re human like us)

You standing at the doorsteps of houses,

Get out of our mornings,

We need reassurance that we

Are human like you!”

We spoke a lot about these lines as well. It reminds of the pre-nakba period when Zionists abused Arab hospitality to get information about them. But there is so much more. Someone who stands at the doorstep should enter the house in hope they sense their own humanity, but also get out of the mornings, because the host needs reassurance that those standing on the doorstep see them as humans. We spoke about the meaning of someone standing at the doorstep, the meaning of ‘human like me, human like you’, of the invitation, and then asking to leave, and the need for reassurance, as if there is danger.

This was followed by some verses that we found moving, some that we found confusing, but when we read these lines, we had a lot to talk about:

“I think, to no avail:

What would another like me think, there

On the hilltop, three thousand years ago,

Of this fleeting moment?

Then the notion pains me

And the memory revives”

Hilltop is both a point of elevation, but also a place of refuge. Many run into the hills when there is danger, many attack from the hills as a point of advantage. 3000 years ago sounds like communicating with those who lived at the time of exodus, and we all know about the Zionist excuse, which led us to talk about Tanak/Torah. And we were interested in this. Might be an idea to look into it a bit more to understand the beliefs of the Zionists, so that we can be better prepared. Being surprised by their beliefs is not so great.

However, we also kind of concluded that it’s the same old story when religion become the tool of politics — they take parts they need, and ignore the rest. If they could at least honour the 10 commandments, we would not be facing this catastrophe.

For the following lines we spoke about the white doves ‘washing the sky’s cheek with free wings’ and

“…I wish the sky

Were real (a man passing between two bombs told me)”

And then the message to the critic “…Do not interpret my words with teaspoon or a bird snare” which we thought means we shouldn’t sweeten them, or look down upon them with a snare from above.

We had another long chat after we read:

“The cypress trees, behind the soldiers, are minarets

That protect the sky against declivity. And behind the iron

Fence the soldiers are urinating — under a tank’s guard –

And the autumn day completes its golden stroll

In a street spacious like church

After Sunday prayer…”

The arrogance and lack of modesty and dignity in the soldier is obvious, yet the tank still guards them even when they are being so lowly. Yet the life has disappeared from the streets, like a church after the crowds of Sunday prayer. It brings the value of humanity into question, and makes us wonder where is the power.

The following lines were just as fascinating:

“A country on the verge of dawn,

We won’t disagree

On the martyrs’ share of the land,

They are equals here

Furnishing us with grass

So that we’d get along!”

The way the word ‘martyrs’ is being used is fascinating, and we wondered who is he referring to. It seems it’s not just the martyrs of today, but for as long as there’s been grass. And that they are providing the means for the living to get along.

The notes to killer and another killer were also food for thought, and we discussed both, though the note to another killer also led to a little debate. We’ve noticed that Palestinians tend to show humanity almost like they hope that if their enemy sees the humanity, the enemy will become more human. Some of us thought this was naïve, others thought it was wise. Both sides had strong arguments, but I do believe the debate ended when someone mentioned that in Jerusalem t-shirts with image of pregnant woman being shot and words ‘one bullet, two hits’ (or something like that) were being sold on the market.

The following lines made us feel like Palestinians are not asking for much, and even then they are wondering if anyone would be hurt:

“Do we harm anyone? Do we harm any

Country, if we were struck, even if from a distance,

Just once, with a drizzle of joy?”

This was followed by some strong lines that we all seem to understand, and we ended the evening reading:

“Here, histories gather in us red,

Black. If it weren’t for the sins the holy book would’ve been

Smaller. If it weren’t for the mirage

The prophets’ footsteps on the sand would’ve been stronger, and

The road to god shorter

So let endlessness complete its infinite chores…

As for me, I’ll whisper to the shadow: if

The history of this place were less crowded

Our eulogies to the topography of

Poplar trees… would’ve been more!”

We thought that histories in red and black means that their histories were written in blood and ink. Yet another reminder that the Biblical and Qur’anic stories are ‘local’ news in that part of the world. And there is so much happening, some sorrows are left unattended, or at least do not get the attention they deserve.

Although this meeting was attended by only five members, we had a lot to say. It was like we helped each other see just how deep and rich the poems are.

I’ll end this article with some lines from the poems that I thought were fascinating, but I didn’t have the time to bring them up:

“In Damascus:

I count my ribs

and return my heart to its trot

perhaps the one who granted me entry

to her shadow

has killed me,

and I didn’t notice…”

___

“If you’re not a rain my love

Be a tree

Soaked with fertility… be a tree

And if you’re not a tree my love

Be a stone

Soaked with humidity… be a stone

And if you’re not a stone my love

Be a moon

In the lover’s sleep… be a moon

(that’s what a woman said

to her son at his funeral)

___

“This siege will extend until

The besieger feels, like the besieged,

That boredom

Is a human trait.”

___

“Salaam is the lament of a young man whose heart a woman’s beauty

mark pierced, not a bullet or a bomb.”

___

“And I said: I learned a lot from you. I learned

how to train myself to love

life and how to row in the white

Mediterranean looking for the way and for home or

for the duality of way and home/

He didn’t care for the compliment. He offered me coffee

Then said: Your Odysseus will come back safe,

he’ll come back…”

Those are taken from various poems. I’ve circled and underlined lots more, but read the book yourself if you’re interested.

I should also mention that this was the forth book the book club has read. I am working on an article about the third book: Friends of Israel by Hil Aked. Not as easy to write about as this. But I am getting there. I hope to finish it by the end of next week.

If you have anything to add, please feel free to do so. Conversations about poetry ever end.