Remembering our brothers and sisters in Iraq

As much as we love fashion, we can not allow ourselves to forget about our brothers and sisters in Iraq. I found a heartbreaking, many thousand years old text from Mesopotamia, that describes the situation of today too well. Guess history repeats itself.

Dead men, not potsherds
littered the way.
In the wide streets
where the crowds once gathered and cheered,
the corpses lay scattered.
In the fields where the dancers once danced
the dead were heaped up in piles…….

This is my house:

where food is not eaten,
where drink is not drunk,
where seats are not sat in,
where beds are not made,
where jars lie empty,
and cups are overturned,
where harps no longer vibrate
and tunes no longer sing.

This is my house:

without a husband,
without a child,
without even
me.

These anonymous verses were composed thousands of years ago, in Mesopotamia (modern Iraq), though, with a change of script and language, they could easily have been written in modern Iraq. From Iraq Museum International.

 

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5 thoughts on “Remembering our brothers and sisters in Iraq

  1. annisabosnia says:

    jazakillahu khajren ja uhti……..

  2. nursheikha says:

    wow…not much has changed…

  3. Celeritas says:

    May Allah swt bring them all peace.

  4. erica aisha says:

    Assallam Alaikum,

    Truly, history does repeat itself.
    What a sad and touching poem.

    Among the things for which I have hoped and prayed for regarding Iraq and its turmoil are of course the safe keeping of families and the mercy of Allah SubHana Wa’TaAla on the believers. AND that some people who love art and history were able to save so many important parts of antiquity and history among the treasures of the great city and its museums.
    Insha’Allah there are more hidden poems and tablets that will turn up again. Like art and books hidden in Nazi occupied Germany. Someday the art can come to rest in the hands and appreciative eye of the public. For now, we shall miss it.

    Ah, I love old poetry. Someday, God Willing, if I continue my Arabic I would love to translate some old Sufi poetry from Shaykhs of old.

    Peace, thoughtful post, let us all remember these sisters in our prayers.

    Sallam,
    aisha

  5. Barb B says:

    I am sick with sadness…the pain I read is like my pain when my heart is broken. I am reminded that I have my family–I have my friends–the world I live is so different, and with guilt I bow my head in prayer for ladies and families everywhere!

    Barb

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