From my 2013 Arabic diary, upon returning to Damascus from Jordan, rejecting the US-led intervention in Syria. Image by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz
DAMASCUS –
Let them gloat—
no harm at all, then let them gloat.
Let them cheer,
and clink their glasses, loud and clear—
for tomorrow we will bear
another homeland to its bier.
You had not reached your twentieth year—
So why did you come searching here?
You stood before me—your breasts a choir,
Around your waist, a thousand stars on fire.
The streets are drowning under tanks that grind,
The guns fall silent, rusting from inside,
The jailer chokes within the cell he sealed,
Yet Fridays rise, the mosques refuse to hide,
And still she stands—Yaman unsealed.
Extracted from my 2005 & 2011 Arabic diary using AI. Original Arabic text below. Image by Pixabay
DAMASCUS –
In my country—
the land of hypocrites and fools—
we lie, we twist the truth by rules,
claim anything we choose.
This poem is written in the voice of absurd confession—a juridical parody spoken by a powerless teenager accused of crimes that only states and intelligence services commit. It reflects the psychological climate of Syria before the uprising: a society treated as guilty in advance, confessing to crimes it did not commit, awaiting punishment already decided. The violence here is not a call—it is a forecast.
Continue reading “Confessions of a Free Woman in a Captive Homeland”
Roumani Line 