A stranger in Iraq
Dr. Jassim Taqui
Today is my last day in Iraq
Lord, how could you let the invaders in my country the great?
With seven thousand years of culture and law, people create,
How could you allow this waste of everything beautiful, innate,
Deep in the core of this blessed land in a way, I can't narrate,
The land of Adam, eve, prophets, Imams, saints, multiple forms,
Resisting over the years invaders, evil, their accompanied storm,
The curse of the timid, hollow mind is allowed to sweep all around,
Nobody remained, the purest of the pure, bulldozed in the ground,
Everything beautiful vanished: art, music, love, peace all romance,
With cowboy-like creatures living like witches, on their tune dance,
Couldn't see Gilgamesh, Hammurabi, couldn't find their trace,
For; the evil forces took over, killing Adams and taking their place,
Couldn't feel the glorious Iraq save signs of invaders and their greed,
Telling humans the story of hatred, thieves and what they breed,
Why Lord permit this indecent wave extending its hold on our soul,
Challenging your domain, the system of balance you created for all?
With no real Iraq, it is time to wither away, die: the story is no more,
Never worth it living unfair life, changing skins and killing the pure.
With seven thousand years of culture and law, people create,
How could you allow this waste of everything beautiful, innate,
Deep in the core of this blessed land in a way, I can't narrate,
The land of Adam, eve, prophets, Imams, saints, multiple forms,
Resisting over the years invaders, evil, their accompanied storm,
The curse of the timid, hollow mind is allowed to sweep all around,
Nobody remained, the purest of the pure, bulldozed in the ground,
Everything beautiful vanished: art, music, love, peace all romance,
With cowboy-like creatures living like witches, on their tune dance,
Couldn't see Gilgamesh, Hammurabi, couldn't find their trace,
For; the evil forces took over, killing Adams and taking their place,
Couldn't feel the glorious Iraq save signs of invaders and their greed,
Telling humans the story of hatred, thieves and what they breed,
Why Lord permit this indecent wave extending its hold on our soul,
Challenging your domain, the system of balance you created for all?
With no real Iraq, it is time to wither away, die: the story is no more,
Never worth it living unfair life, changing skins and killing the pure.
NB: The poem was written 5 years ago to record my sentiments after 4 decades in exile. Thanks to the facebook for retrieving this poem when I missed it completely.
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