Patriotism Falls
Memory Retold and Seen
Some words are not written to persuade anyone. They are written because they are the last thing a person can carry before silence falls over them.
This poem is not an explanation of what happened, nor an attempt to convince anyone of a particular narrative.
It is the trace of a human being who found, in poetry, the only place where language could continue standing when ordinary words could not.
At Living Memory, we do not ask memory to become calm before it speaks, nor to choose a language that hurts less.
We let it arrive as it is, because memory that is polished too carefully eventually loses the truth it carries.
Patriotism Falls
when they say, we are killed by fire,
while in truth, we are killed by identity.
We are killed by the land, by the tongue,
by religion, by belonging.
We are killed by a weapon called homeland.
We are killed by foreign hands,
that remember human rights,
only after the human being is gone,
in the name of humanity.
We are killed by the silence of nations,
the consent of rulers,
and the reckless hunger of international ambitions.
Patriotism Falls
when they say, we are still alive,
while in truth, we are being killed by freedom itself.
We are killed by meaningless wars.
We are killed by the devils..
We are killed by those who desecrate the earth
only to desecrate the sky.
We are killed beneath olive trees,
inside our homes, in the streets,
in hospitals, on balconies,
And wherever the artillery chooses to reach.
Patriotism Falls
when they say, we are killed by fire,
while in truth, we are killed by wounded dignity,
violated sanctities,
and we are killed by the generous tears of our women.
We are killed inside every answer
to our children's questions.
We are killed by the poverty of words,
by powerless steps,
by guilt, by grief,
because we survived.. like the others.
Now, the highest form of patriotism
is that July must die,
so that the cause may live.
We are killed by the generous tears of our women,
And we are killed inside every answer
to our children's questions..
and we are killed by the generous tears of our women.
We are killed inside every answer
to our children's questions..
