Flipped the Channel

Today I turn off Al-Jazeera,

Moving away from symbolic

revolutionary images that overwhelmed

the streets of al-Qahira..

The people, in absolute unison

moved in a scattered orderly

disorganization

shaking off the cold

from their faces

through smiles

chants

and unstoppable

hope.

Today, I couldn’t watch any news,

weak

and frail

to images

of strong sisters,

and brothers ..

Today, my mind wanted material

entertaining reels of

irrelevant fictions of pretty lights

and glamorizing colors..

Today, my mind cheated,

it took a break

from moments

that continue to overwhelm

the days

and brittle nights

of Egyptians

camping

standing

chanting

singing

and persistently fighting

in a struggle that continues

to overwhelm their

hearts

over their bodies

of mind over

any feelings

left weakening

any doubt and

hesitation to cease

in their protests at hand.

Today, I flipped through channels,

looking for another sight,

looking for a moment,

at other stories,

only left daydreaming of

the illuminosity

of Tahrir Square

glowing even

in the un-silenced

darkness that

surrounds their bodies,

protected

in guard

by their

collective order.

Today, after hours of flipping through,

lost in slow

tics on my clock

I passed time

baking

dessert that would only be hovered

with burnt sides

of fires

blazing miles away

in a country

I do not call my own

but hugs the sides of

my distant land

carried heavily and

rigidly

the isolated

precarious soils of

Rafah,

Qita3 Gaza

Khan Yunis,

for a history,

to wide to speak

of now..

Today, as I

spoke to my parents

over Skype,

I realized

in their sedated tones

in the 16th day

of continued protests

they busied their days

with political reports,

over sweet hot tea

steeped in Maramiya.

My mother tells me

she hasn’t left the house

in over two weeks,

not because she doesn’t support

the struggle of the Egyptians,

but of fear that Mubarak’s thugs

will curtail her intentions

falsely and

harm her ..

“We’re not Egyptians..”

she says,

“there’s rumors saying

they’re attacking foreigners..

and they don’t care if we’re Canadian ..

or Palestinians..”

Identity over reason..

Today,

I later went back..

to Nilesat

channel 167

to Aljazeera International

to listen..

awaken

and swallow

the sorrows and

struggles that continue

to carry their

demands up high

in banners

posters and

rhetorical comedy

in laughter

and anger..

Another day...

another today..

another hope

for a betterment

in hope

love

and a strengthen community ..

Tomorrow awaits...

Egypt Jan 25, 2011 - Flesh Burns

As fire flares into heated waves of subdued anger and frustration, self-immolation melt through problematics that have been hidden in the rubbles of the cities peripheries for far too long. Flesh burns in the name of a meaning lost, no longer felt, but ignored in the scattered piles of unknowns of nameless people and places. Flesh burns to tell others, that no longer silence will prevail to allow these feelings to succeed. Flesh burns to lost responsibilities of leaderships, hidden away in the warmness of their classic-like structures that warms their bodies of the same elements that flares their colonially-decorated fireplace. Flesh burns to rotten lies that sit on the periphery of the soul, holding on to rocks hoping that the body would slip and jump. Flesh burns to reignite feeling, far from sedation, the eyes no longer cry for, but blink rapidly against the harsh realities of alleyways that unearth poverty and abuse at its core. Flesh burns because no longer can the tongue speak in forms of fabricated truths or veracious lies. Flesh burns in the light of darkness that obscures the mind in lifeless attempts to stay alive.

Lifeless bodies lose hope in the continued promises of a betterment in the midst of answerless destinies. In the name of freedom, the mind no longer can contain what lingers within in anger or frustration. And nothing leaves one consoled than to bring out what burns inside to the core.

And in the name of any meaning that would harmonize the damage that scars you so deep, nothing mitigates the broken pieces of shattered possibilities but through revolt. To speak against the restoration of insanity, allowing words, bodies in motion and masses to weld their unified needs towards a betterment for a land that has held their bodies in her womb since time immemorial. Speak not but against atrocity, oppression, deception, corruption and a continued masquerade of a people’s republic.

Against torture, and propagated reflections of a distorted freedom, submit to nothing but the demands of a reality, that charges against mirages in the reflections of a sanitized mirror. Words can suppress and ignite the self in power to change. So, wait not for direction to take the next step forward, for progression awaits your initiation. What are you waiting for?