A KNIFING MADE BY SILENCE

The poem I performed at Downing Street

I wrote and performed this after being invited to speak at No 10 Downing Street. Though I felt - and still feel - conflicted about it, I was grateful for the opportunity to talk about Palestine in the epicentre of the UK’s political infrastructure, even if I had to do it subtly. I’ll elaborate in a future post, but for now, here’s the poem.

‘Osmosis’ has two definitions

but the one I urge you toward for the purpose of this story

is the one that means

‘the process of a gradual or unconscious assimilation of ideas, knowledge and more.’

That is to say, oftentimes, we are very good

at constructing mirrors

when what the world needs

are windows.

Our mothers say “do what’s right,”

our fathers say, “just be honest.”

And children are not born liars, no,

children are not born to bear the brunt

of our - of your - dishonesty,

and yet, somehow, here we are.

I confess, I do not know what to do with the grey sludge of indifference,

I cannot see through the murkiness of repression.

I could have sworn there was a heartbeat somewhere,

but sometimes when we are horror-struck, we fall into patterns of wishful thinking 

And now look at where we stand.

What use is a calcified heart, after all, in a crumbling stone chest?

What good is a calendar, if an arsonist sets fire to time?

What happens when vocal cords are severed

by the knife of never saying ‘no’?

These days I turn and turn and turn left, but the path simply bends right

and all that grows along it is silence.

And so, I invite you – no, I beg you - to imagine yourself floating in newly salted water

Suspend that brain and heart of yours for a little while,

let them be bleached,

rinsed,

and exposed anew

to the simplicity, the bravery, the necessity,

the urgency of telling the truth.

Image: Women with Banner Protesting on Street/copyright Mohammed Abubakr

A quick favour. I love writing these posts, and I intend to do them for free for as long as I can. If you enjoyed reading this, forward it to a friend (or three) who you think might like it too. It helps massively, because validation from strangers is truly the only thing that makes the horrors bearable for me.

PS: If you spotted a typo, no you didn’t.