Monday, February 2, 2009

Poetry Central

It's been a while since I've written poetry. It's one of my favorite things to do. I'm no Maya Angelou, but sometimes I surprise myself. I have been writing again very recently, so I'll likely post some more in the near future. Sorry for ya.

So, today in my Conflict of the Middle East class (my least favorite, only because I have SO much reading), we had to write a poem. You might say, "???" That's what I said too. Oh well. Well, first we read a poem by Arab Mahmoud Darwish called Identity Card. Here it is (after translation):
Record !
I am an Arab
And my identity card is number fifty thousand
I have eight children
And the ninth is coming after a summer
Will you be angry?

Record !
I am an Arab
Employed with fellow workers at a quarry
I have eight children
I get them bread
Garments and books
from the rocks...
I do not supplicate charity at your doors
Nor do I belittle myself
at the footsteps of your chamber
So will you be angry?

Record !
I am an Arab
I have a name without a title
Patient in a country
Where people are enraged
My roots
Were entrenched before the birth of time
And before the opening of the eras
Before the pines, and the olive trees
And before the grass grew.

My father..
descends from the family of the plow
Not from a privileged class
And my grandfather..was a farmer
Neither well-bred, nor well-born!
Teaches me the pride of the sun
Before teaching me how to read
And my house
is like a watchman's hut
Made of branches and cane
Are you satisfied with my status?
I have a name without a title !

Record !
I am an Arab
You have stolen the orchards
of my ancestors
And the land
which I cultivated
Along with my children
And you left nothing for us
Except for these rocks..
So will the State take them
As it has been said?!

Therefore !
Record on the top of the first page:
I do not hate people
Nor do I encroach
But if I become hungry
The usurper's flesh will be my food
Of my hunger
And my anger!

So my professor wanted us to write a poem called Identity Card. Here's mine:

I am divorced!
My children live
In a "broken home."
I hear your silence when you learn
I am divorced.

I am mother!
My children are not broken
I am not broken
I know from them true joy,
And they learn joy from me.
I am mother.

I am Christian
The Savior of all loves me now
As He did before divorce
He wants to save me now,
and my children,
As He did then.
From His fold, I am not divorced
Praise to God-
I am Christian!

Pray, see my heart broken by God,
Not my home broken by man.

I just happen to think it's not so bad for having a ten minute time limit. :D


Melanie said...

You forgot to capitalize one of the His's. Also, I think you've explained it once, but why is your heart broken by God? But it is good.

Stephanie said...

our sacrifice to God is a broken heart and a contrite spirit. When our heart is broken and we give it to God, we're showing Him that we're willing to submit to His will. We've broken it down so that it's no longer ours, and we give it to Him to mold and make whole. I'm very proud and couldn't see that I fancied my heart to be mine, so God broke part of it for me, which was nice of Him. I still have a long way to go, but I hope that explains it a little! Thanks for reading!

Ashlee Garn said...

Wow, very nice :)

Anonymous said...

That was very good for only having ten minutes. I bet you will get a good grade on that. Very well written.