As I write the temporary ceasefire in Israel and Palestine is over. The U.S. and U.K. respectfully vetoed and abstained on a vote at the UN Securing Council to uphold a permanent ceasefire. Meanwhile the United Nations General Assembly voted overwhelmingly yesterday in favour of a resolution calling for a humanitarian ceasefire in Gaza, yet the atrocities continue.
News that I allow to filter through to my consciousness horrifies me. Images of captured Palestinians surrounded by Israeli soldiers, stripped to their underwear, kneeling in the dirt, arms tied behind their back. An image of a child in Gaza laying in the rubble hugging a cat.
I’ll be honest in the first few days in October I was in a numbed state of shock and if I’m really honest I feel again a grinding sense of loss at times. Back then I feel into a kind of existential despair and wondering how it is that for so long people across the world, have demanded justice, peace, equality and now this… that led to “what the point?” Which is what I guess despair sounds like, and what is the point of poetry at a time like this. Then came the sorrow, grief and rage and some words flowed again.
Since I’ve been asking myself what is the role of the poet or artist in a time of war, suffering and multiple crises? I figure there are many answers to this question. We know words have power to evoke love or hate, in essence not just to invite people to think but feel. We know words can appeal to our shared sense of humanity even when that appears to be further away than ever. Our words and arts matter.
Painting by Palestinian Ismail Shammout
There have been enormous pro Palestinian poetry events held in London and New York City and no doubt else where. Arguably since it is the U.S. and U.K. that are the main obstacle to a ceasefire — our role in the U.K and U.S is of heightened importance, not yet pivotal but significant.
In addition I’d like to share news of an event featuring poets from Israel and Palestine. It’s unclear from the article when or exactly when this event took place but it was reported on the 20th October nevertheless check out the work of these writers.
Personally I find it hard to imagine picking up the pen when under fire and found this incredible inspiring. The courage! From an article entitled, As the Bombs Fall I Write By Mohammed Moussa Published 8 Jun 2021
“I wrote my first poem in 2014, as Israeli bombs rained down on Gaza, sitting in the corner of my room during the three hours of electricity we had each day, listening to the radio and to the sound of bombs, drones and ambulances. I typed out the words – “I was born in Gaza.” I wanted to talk about what I was going through in the tune of a poet or a poetry lover.…
Growing up in Gaza is inspiring for anyone, but especially for poets – life here is poetry blown into pieces and scattered all over the place.”
So again I ask what is the role of a poet at this time? To write, to act, to shed light on the darkness. To share the work of oppressed people and those facing immediate risk and danger. Find some references to Palestinian poetry in my previous blog post here
I’ve writen little creatively on the subject so I’d like to share this powerful poem from Joseph Fasano.
It’s so easy to focus only on the suffering and atrocities. This can only evoke pity. No one wants to be pitied. I figure it’s not whether we do or do not write about the darkness but how. Fasano’s poem brings us to compassion and care in a terrifying experience without denying the danger hinted at in the poems devastating ending.
While Shouting at the Wall, by MC Abdul is an unabated cry of defiance, a portrait of occupation without denying the daily danger people living in Gaza face, “my dad risks his life outside to buy bread.” And bear in mind this video was uploaded two years ago.
MC Abdul aka Abdel-Rahman Al-Shantti was born in Gaza, Palestine. He started rapping and writing songs at age nine, gaining popularity when he sang a rap about freedom in front of his school in Gaza. His videos for “Shouting At The Wall” and “Palestine” have gone viral.
Recently I went to a screening organised by a friend of Oliver Stone’s Salvador. In truth I had forgotten that time in the 80’s when people rose from Nicaragua to El Salvador, brutally crushed by CIA backed right wing regimes. Above all though it was a reminder to me of the immense courage people find in situations not of their own making, one of their own choosing.
Elsewhere oil prices are up again, of course they are, as Shell posts $6.2bn profit Oil deals are struck at COP 28. And peace on earth seems like a dream deferred with at least nine armed conflicts in the world at this time, seven of which are in Africa. And don’t expect to see much about that on our screens. It’s enough to make you want to despair. Yet despair is the darkness, hope is the light. We can all be Spartacus, we can all be Neo, we can all edge slowly out of the shadows in our own souls into the light.
Seasons Greetings.
A blog post by Anne Enith Cooper
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