أهل الشام (Spoken word)


أهل الشام
يا أهل الشام يا أطفال الشام يا خضار الشام
What do I tell them?
He said: Why?
In the blink of an eye,
The rivers flowed with blood
The dry basins filled with the tears of mothers
The sky flourished with the spirits of martyrs
Home is where the heart is but my home was reduced to rubble
My heart collapsed and shattered the broken figments of my life doubled
How tightly can you hold to a throne, so tightly that you crush my brothers and sisters with it’s legs?
Sitting and negotiating at the table won’t unrape my sister
It won’t revive my father
It won’t heal my brother
And now under the rubble air is a luxury
The dropping of the barrel bomb
I’m hearing my funeral song
I sniff the scent of the heavens but what have I done wrong?
Changing your profile picture won’t increase the time I have left
Arguing amongst one another won’t lift the walls off of me
Paying lip service won’t save me
Building your resume and profiting off my death won’t help me
Do you fight for my cause, do you speak as my voice?
The angels have recorded what has transpired, they have taken note of what you have done and what you have not
You cared for a day and all of a sudden you stopped
I’m not a fashion statement
I’m not a media campaign
I am a child.
A real, live breathing child.
I am a gem of ash sham.
I am the fragrance of the damascene jasmine.
I am the innocence of a generation, left to dry and wither away until I die.
Will you forget about me?
Homs? Yarmouk? Aleppo? Damascus?
I am the child who lost his legs.
I am the little girl who had her face burned off.
I am the small boy who stopped breathing.
Will you continue to bicker and deliberate over who was responsible for my death or what UN laws it violated when the answer is as clear as day.
This is my last breath, and with it
I am going to tell God everything. I will speak of the laziness of this Ummah, of the crimes of this tyrant, of the hypocrites who use my suffering to boost their pride. I am going to tell Him everything Yahiya.
Verily, we don’t deserve ash Sham.
We’ve broken every promise, violated every Ayat, disgraced every mother and murdered every child. How can I sleep when I see the lifeless bodies in my dreams? I open and close my eyes and they’re still there. They’re staring at me, and at you.
We will be judged for every tear a mother has ever shed for her martyred child, for every drop of blood.
Ya Allah forgive me, forgive us. I don’t deserve to eat if they cannot eat, drink if they cannot drink, play if they cannot play, cry if they cannot cry.
Forgive me for every refugee mother that has to carry her house on her back. Forgive me for every orphan that has lost a parent. Forgive me for every martyr that died to protect his children.
God, strengthen me and give me Your sword.
يا أهل الشام
Forgive me.
May the Truth emerge from our sorrows and the falsehoods perish.

Yahiya Saad

Yahiya is a second-year at the University of Virginia majoring in Global Development Studies and minoring in Economics. His family is from Damascus and he aspires to be a international human rights lawyer/activist like Razan Zeitouneh. He is the upcoming president of UVA’s Students for Peace & Justice in Palestine. He tweets here.

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