The Things That Should Not Be

Inspired by Moayad's writing...

     

 

Blistering waves of sand lap at my feet. Imprints of all that I have seen, lie engraved upon my brow. I am too young for these lines and streaks of grey. I drown in a sea of thought. My land was once the cradle of civilization. Today it is a bloodbath. Who is to blame? I am weary of pondering the question. I don't know. Maybe, I don't wish to know. I do know that these things should not be.

I have seen more people die than the number of the years of my life, many times multiplied. My wife stands in the door way and calls to me. I look at her and smile. It is a deranged smile. I have been waiting for the shells to start falling. As if my wish were their command, the shells start to fall, hissing. I raise my hands in the air and twirl with the delight of a child. She dashes towards me, grabs my arms, and makes me to come inside. I am laughing. The poor woman is at a loss. She shakes me and begins to scold. "...how can you...you could have been killed. What is the matter with you? You gave me such a fright. You were laughing. How could you laugh at something so serious? It is not enough that death knocks at our doors daily...you must go out and seek it? Do you think of no one but yourself?"

       I have quieted myself. I am sorry. I don't know what came over me. It must be the madness of it all that has infected me. She yells but I see that she is weeping. I bury my face in my hands. She must despise me. If only she knew what had happened today. I cannot tell her. I cannot tell her. I cannot tell her. Seering pain flowing from my psyche overwhelms my frail body. She pries my hands from face and gazes intently into my eyes. "What is it? What has happened?' she asks. I shake my head. "Go. Do not worry." She wants to say something but does not; she walks back to the kitchen, shaking her lovely head. She brings me coffee, a whole pot. My dear wife is well aware of how much coffee I drink when I am in a such a state. She leaves me to myself. The electricity has failed. This is not unusual. In fact, it fails nearly every day as the music of the shells merging with earth strikes my auditory organs.

       You must try to understand, I am a teacher at a local school. I am well-acquainted with most people in this area. Every day I go to work wondering who will be forever absent from my little classroom. I will tell you what I could not tell her.

        Cradling my beloved books and papers, I exited the school building about an hour after classes ended. How the sun danced across the street, twisting in nymph-like, seductive patterns! How soft was the blue of the cloudless skies! My heart was light and I sang a song, long forgotten by most of my people. I then turned onto a busy street. Everything seemed fine. My feet felt strangely wet. I gazed downward to see my shoes soaked in scarlet.

        Blindly, my eyes roamed the street. A small, elfish child hovered by the body of what I assumed must be its father. I watched the child poke and prod the body, covering it in innocent kisses. It realized that the man was gone. My soul shattered to see the child weep. I stood there stupidly. There were other bodies. I wondered what these people had done to merit such ends. I heard an explosion. About three streets away, a cloud of smoke reached up to kiss the heavens as fiery oblivion consumed the buildings that had not been dashed to pieces. I heard wailing and screaming so ardent. I felt as if I had been transported into The Inferno. Minutes felt like hours. I walked up to the child wanting to comfort it. It ran from me screaming. I think it was because of the blood-soaked shoes. I felt ancient as I proceeded down that street. The flower woman was one of the bodies. There lay old Ghayth. God rest his soul. He would suffer poverty no more. There lay Hayfa. She was once one of my brightest students. There lay the homeless stray.

        At the end of the street, my knees gave out. I lay for sometime, my face in the dust. I watered the earth with my sorrow. I cried out to God. "My God, my God, why have You forsaken us." I wept. I wept. I wept. I wept and I could not stop weeping. I rose, numb and walked home where you first met me. I thought upon death and shells began to rain down from the heavens. My wife saved me from an untimely death but I am mortally ill. I am ill with grief. I am ill with grief that none can cure.

       Why is there all of this war? Why this hate, this greed, this violence? Why must the innocent burn with the guilty? Is there no end to the living hell that we inhabit? Soon all of Iraq will drown in blood as the unthinking hands of men follow the thoughts of unthinking minds.

Author's Note

Dear Moayad...do tell me what You think of it....

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

This is very deep and shocking..you seem to know our beautiful way of life
i could not draw a picture that clear of our wonderful city..how it glows with signs and light
those bombs and shells light the city skies when there is no power
they give music to the scene when all is silent in all deserted streets
they give joy and laughter coming with all the fear and haunting sadness
yes i will try to count the bodies dear..i always try to keep a good count
everyday i see who is newly missing..who was just with us a few hours ago
who was released of his misery..its hot here who was relieved and now rest in cold
i try and try walking and counting and laughing at me and all in this haunted city of the dead
i got used to it now ,nothing ever strange anymore..this child there saying goodbye to his father
he knew that he will be gone sooner or later..for everyone must leave..only we are a bit more in a hurry
its not in our hands we just follow our fate..and it tells us,,life is not that beautiful ..you all need your rest
very detailed and illustrated and shocking write..a great journal
and a lovely write..