She says I'm a son of the city
we're battling in. It's inscribed
in my eyes, in the bottom lines,
where death news break
and fall like dominoes,
side by side.
She deems of me openly
with her mother tongue,
and I deny. Yet deep down,
I feel the city disposing of its sewage
in my blood, I feel its suburbs
expanding with their ugliness
and ignorance, I feel its history
of sheer misery taking over me,
transcending the boundaries
of my own existence.
She says it won't work between us.
The whole thing is killing her,
and she's not used to be weighed
this down by wretchedness.
So I finally get to tell her she's right.
I am the son of a flawed city. But I'm
a loyal one. And it's time to go our
separate lives because this wailing
country in the bottomless pit of the
Middle East doesn't issue citizenships
for the happy ones.
Abed takes me as the reader on a pathway of darkness in such a creative way. I enjoyed the detail of each stanza.
I felt that the message pertains to a fallen city, broken down and stripped of honor, leaving its people left to suffer greatly.
I really am impressed with his writing within this piece and felt it had to be highlighted!!
I like how vague this female character is in the poem, yet she has a purpose, a role here in the author's life. To me, she seems to be breaking the silence and meeting the author to see where this relationship will go, almost like she is from another part of the country or world, and does not live in the misery this author does. There is a separateness, a distance from understanding that living in happiness is harder than simply making a choice, especially when the author is so rooted in the violence, the country's history, and the presence of death. Should "death" be "death's" in the four line though? So much is said in these few stanzas and I appreciate the author's honesty, in not being blind to the city's flaws (sin, war, corrupt leaders perhaps), yet realizing this city is still a part of him and he wants to take pride in it, whether he was born in it, raised in it, or is identity is there in its soil in some form. There is a yearning in the last stanza for happiness to be able to bloom in this city. Thoughtful write, I like how the author writes about this reality and seems to realize where he stands, that maybe right now he cannot make the decision to be happy or find that place where's he happy. The poem is also depressing, especially near the end, with the knowledge that it is near impossible to live in this city and maintain any amount of happiness. Right now though, he's living in this city and he won't leave it yet. That gives me hope that those dedicated to the city will fight for it and what values it used to regard. (7)