Stare Into the Whirlwind

 

Aging eyes, veneered in thin cataracts, water in the twilight,

Warm tears summoned by wind, weariness, grief, and shame,

Anguished fragility, furies at the powers, divine or diabolic,

Hoarse throated from imprecations--prayers, uttered vitriolic, 

As Job, rending spirit, resigned --yet raging, broken, and lame,

Yet into the wind, the bloody whirlwind, not averting his sight.

Stare into the whirlwind,

In the solidarity of chagrin,

In audacity raise your chin,

Steel-nerves, harden your skin.

In these days, body and spirit, dissipate as clouds in thermals,

A witness to the mass murdered in a land of distracted deniers,

Anguished fragility, wailing in turn at the altar or in the square,

From matins to vespers, in wordless sounds of groaning prayer.

This Mass of broken bodies, seas of blood need answer either,

To the iron straw superman or to the grace of the supernatural.

Stare into the whirlwind,

In the solidarity of chagrin,

Let the Spirit quell the din,

'Til the day, of new wineskins.

Stare into the whirlwind.

And breathe it in,

Breathe it in,

Sifting Beloved

 

The juggernauts continue their rapacious consumption,

Cooly reducing neighborhoods to shattered enclaves,

An aftermath of a normalcy of murder and mayhem,

Yonder, violent land theft pogroms accelerate grimly.

In Gaza's rubble, days of shelterless surviving or dying.

Western powers play at outrage, none act to condemn.

This merciless avarice bulldozing miles of mass grave.

Erasing homes and holy sites in a zionist subsumption, 

Of their place on earth.

Sifting beloved,

Sifting beloved,

Sifting.

Bereaved Mahmoud Hammad,

Beloved wife, Naama Alaa Al-Din,

Was soon to birth beautiful daughter, Haifa, 

Consumed by thermal munitions.

Burned alive into ash as well,

Son Ismail, named for the faith that God will hear,

Son Mohammed, named for the prophet, 

Son Ghaith, the rain that brings mercy,

Daughter, Jana, God's gift to Mahmoud and Naama. *

Mahmoud our brother, bearing this unfathomable grief,

While fat-boy politicians drool over this holy ground,

Where blood stains and human and concrete ashes settle,

For this honorable one, an archeology of desperate quiet,

Cherishing his lost loves, displacing fathoms of rubble.

With what Allah gave him,  hands, back, and firm mettle,

Shovel, sieve, and sorrow, searching soil for his unfound,

Fragments of family, bone and dust and persistent belief,

In their sacred worth.

Sifting beloved,

Sifting beloved,

Sifting.

"Strengthen the feeble hands,

    steady the knees that give way;

 say to those with fearful hearts,

    “Be strong, do not fear;

your God will come,

    he will come with vengeance;

with divine retribution

    he will come to save you.” (Is. 35)

* I looked up the meaning of Mahmoud's family member names in Arabic. Mahmoud's name itself refers to honor and worth, which I use in the next stanza.