We are seeing the rise of the new era of capitalism in its decadence, that is, decline. The thrashing tail and head are swinging all of us on this globe from side to side, twisting reality, employing doublespeak, and criminalizing compassion. In the midst of this slaughter of civilians and children, with over 12000 dead and countless wounded, doctors like Norway’s Mads Gilbert , emergency room physician and respected medical administrator, have called for a ceasefire in the face of genocide and ethnic cleansing to create a fake “terra nullis” for settler colonization of Palestinian lands.

In the face of this brutal reality, Palestinian poets and artists are creating beauty, calling for mercy, and crying out for justice. This blog participates in providing a cultural space to understand more viscerally than any newscast or round table on current affairs, the experiences, suffering and hope of the Palestinians.

The following poems are against genocide, against inhumanity and against white settler supremacy, a supremacy that has characterized the Zionist state since the original Nakba. Europe shipped its guilt to West Asia and Middle East and created this mess of a client state, subsidized by successive US governments and NATO agendas . I join with millions of people around the world calling for a CEASEFIRE now. Our hearts know what is happening, even though the state of global anomie may leave us gasping.

The following poem accompanies the next painting, done by Tayseer Barakat, artist of Ramallah.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY
I am we
I am an unborn nation
I might be born on July, 2179
I am sad and don’t want to be now
I want to be in the past or in another time
I have held many collective exhibits in several planets among them
Jupiter, Saturn, and Mercury
I held three exhibits on Mars, Pluto, and Earth
I am nameless and formless
I am also without value in these times?
You can find me dead in a tunnel on the Egyptian border or as a beggar in one of Nwakshot’s streets, or in a dumpster in Jabalia refugee camp in the Gaza strip
Or as cement bag in Abu Deis, as a rosebud on the Pacific coast
Or a bird drenched in tanker oil on the shores of the Persian Gulf
I am your brother, I am nothing, a coincidence, a tunnel, a military tank, a flour sack,
A demolished house, a bleeding wound, a gas cylinder, a limping rooster, an ambulance, a wall awaiting destruction, a tin can, a tree and my branches are severed daily so the enemy can feed their children, I am an obliterated sidewalk in Hashem’s Gaza…
Or maybe I am corrupt or courageous, maybe I am kindhearted, or helpless!!!
I am exhausted…
Tayseer Barakat
Translated by Fady Joudah

As the Poetry Foundation explains, “Mosab Abu Toha is a Palestinian poet, short story writer, and essayist from Gaza. Abu Toha is the author of Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza (2022, City Lights), which won a 2022 Palestine Book Award. Abu Toha is the founder of the Edward Said Library, and from 2019 to 2020, he was a visiting poet and librarian-in-residence at Harvard University.” Here is another poem from this great contemporary writer.

My Grandfather and Home, Mosa Abu Toha

i

my grandfather used to count the days for return with his fingers
he then used stones to count
not enough
he used the clouds birds people

absence turned out to be too long
thirty six years until he died
for us now it is over seventy years

my grandpa lost his memory
he forgot the numbers the people
he forgot home

ii

i wish i were with you grandpa
i would have taught myself to write you
poems volumes of them and paint our home for you
i would have sewn you from soil
a garment decorated with plants
and trees you had grown
i would have made you
perfume from the oranges
and soap from the skys tears of joy
couldnt think of something purer

iii

i go to the cemetery every day
i look for your grave but in vain
are they sure they buried you
or did you turn into a tree
or perhaps you flew with a bird to the nowhere

iv

i place your photo in an earthenware pot
i water it every monday and thursday at sunset
i was told you used to fast those days
in ramadan i water it every day
for thirty days
or less or more

v

how big do you want our home to be
i can continue to write poems until you are satisfied
if you wish i can annex a neighboring planet or two

vi

for this home i shall not draw boundaries
no punctuation marks