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State of Siege (Paperback)
Mahmoud Darwish, Munir Akash, Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore
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R537
R446
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Darwish (1942-2008), recipient of France s Knight of Arts and
Belles Lettres medal, the Lotus Prize, and the Lannan Foundation
Prize for Cultural Freedom, is widely considered Palestine s most
eminent poet. State of Siege was written while the poet himself was
under siege in Ramallah during the Israeli invasion of 2002. An
eloquent and impassioned response to political extremity, the
collection was published to great acclaim in the Arab world. Akash
and Moore s translation, including an introduction by Akash
exploring the rich mythology of these poems, presents the first
book-length, bilingual edition of State of Siege to an English
audience.
"Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps."(William Blake) A
cooly impassioned, and "pathward" adventurous series of poems
joining two modes of enlightenment, Buddhist and Sufi, that may in
many ways be parallel-from my sitting with saintly Shunryu Suzuki
of the San Francisco Zen Center in the early 60s, and my blessed
time with Qutb Shaykh ibn al-Habib of Fez in Meknes, Morocco, in
the 1970s, may Allah be pleased with both of them. Are the two
protagonists of these poems the main characters in Waiting for
Godot, now no longer waiting, but there? Exalted humor lightens our
spiritual endeavors.
These are poems written over nearly a year in 1996, ecstatic,
bewildered, exploratory, celebratory, remembering Allah in all the
usual and unusual places, seeing (God willing) His Light through
all things, people and places. A trajectory arc of heart over and
through time. Hoping by these flights to acknowledge His Generosity
to us in adversity and peace.
A grand outgoing, heading directly into the puzzlement, the puzzle,
puzzling it all out... Poems of search and devotion to the One,
through labyrinthine manifestations... self and its various
sheddings.
There are among us luminous beings who maintain that what we might
taste of the Garden of Paradise and what we might suffer of the
Fire of Hell is right here in our present earthly and mortal
existence as well. The imaginal truth of the Spiritual Path that
points to the Next World after death is perhaps indisputable
(however some might vigorously dispute it) but our lives, upon
reflection, sometimes thrown overboard and barely making it to
shore, sometimes buoyed up very high and slammed down very low and
hard, are a living proof of the this-world tasting of the Next
World experience...
The luster of a glisten is/enough to elicit bliss//The gleam from a
beam/enough to confound the intellect//The crack of a rock in a
creek/can take us back to where//we lost track//The whiff of a
sniff can lift/even the most morose heart//from the hotbed of
heartbreak//All these phenomena/splinter and splatter in//this
world to focus from the/unseen world onto this one//some hint of
the high rainbowing/laughter to come...
Somehow the resonance for me during the entertaining of this title
as an abiding albeit background theme for the poems, was the
perfect crime of our existence: perfect because created by a
perfect Creator. A crime because we get up to such malfeasance all
the time, at the lower end of it, and a crime at the higher end in
the sense that the Sufis often mention, that any existence of
theirs before Allah ta'ala, any flake or residue of their
self-ness, is a crime, a flaw, an obstruction before the Light of
God. Only when you have known a saint (wali) of whatever spiritual
practice do you the sense of a personality honed to its finest
before the divine consciousness, whose actions and words and
thoughts are soaked in divinity to such a degree that the person is
truly human in its essence and effaced before God in His
ever-present and infinitely Merciful activity.
Chants for the Beauty Feast are poems in celebration of our
breathing, living, daring and imaginal beauty, in this world with
all its aches and pangs, and the next and the Unseen world with its
intersections into and throughout this one, divinely directed.
Light everywhere moving with relentless bliss.
This may be a secret among only a few of its recipients, but cancer
is a direct and positive gift from God. Its chemo and radiation
therapies wrack and ruin us... and its alternative therapies may
bewilder us with the arcane and often whacky character of their
methods... I chose the traditional medical program of three chemo
and thirty-five radiation sessions, begun immediately after
diagnosis of my cancer, and I praise Allah for the doctors who
treated me with their medicine chest of tough love.
_________________ Redemption happens the way/ water falls/
Forgiveness is air/ let into an airless room/ Even at the top of
the highest peak/ we can't just step off into the sky/ At some
point only God's Love has any reality/ and everything hangs
enraptured from that ferocious hook/ Streams of light continue to
enter us from we/ know now where/ The truth of our beings/ light
streaming everywhere
Try to describe light and it's hopeless/ Nothing can quite catch in
words luminous nothingness/ Hold something up in light and it's
revealed in it say a/ miniature Easter Island head now brought out
in its/ full strangeness by the surrounding illumination/ But how
can you hold up something like light in light and hope to achieve/
the thing the flash the flat surrounding splashy airiness of
brightness/ in whose beneficence everything/ including us is
revealed?...
In all the poems of a poet's work there's the impulse to get to the
bottom of things, to the original energy pulse, the first cause as
it manifests in the present tense, the spark off the main strike.
As always, the title came to me first, and the poems followed, some
faithful some astray from the theme, but always rebounding back
again to resonate with that original strike, in these scattered
sparks.
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