Haiti

نسيت هويتي على الطريق
يا أمي
و فقدت نفسي خرج جدران
بلدي
و هو كان ساهل
نمت جهلا خلال ضجة
العنف
و سكرت عيوني أمام القتال
الفوضوي
و هر كان ساهل
فأخذ الحرب ضميرك
يابلدي
و هدم روح بشرتك
بقوى
و هو كان ساهل
فغطيت وجهك خلف منديلي
لامبالي
حتى فكرت أنني حرة من
إثمي

أنا نسيت و هو كان ساهل
و فعلا أتذكر
شهدت دموع الدم في عيونك
كعسل
و سمعت صوت البكي
و لفت
أنا نسيت هويتي
و هو كان صعب
و أتذكر
أنا جاهزة لأجلس معك
يا جدي
أنا جاهزة لأدرس منك
يا جدتي
هل أنا متأخرة
يا هايتي, يا حبيبي, يا بلدي؟؟؟

in inglish:



i forgot my identity along the road
dear mother
and lost myself outside the walls of
my country
and it was easy
i slept ignorantly through the noise of
the violence
and closed my eyes before tthe killing
chaotic
and it was easy
the war took your conscience
my dear country
and your spirit escaped
with force
and it was easy

so i covered your face
carelessly
until i thought i was free from
my sin

i forgot my identity, and it was easy
but really, i remember

i witnessed a tear of blood in your eyes
like honey
i heard the voice of your cries
and turned away

i forgot my identity,
but it was difficult

and i remember

i am ready to sit with you
my grandfather
i am ready to learn from you
my grandmother
am i too late
my haiti, my love, my country?

A short essay on identity to the people,

Our projected identities are the product of the sublimated interactions between our present states and our histories, even ones we haven‘t lived. Most of the time, we are not obligated to be conscious of our subconscious ruminations of who we are. We pass through life like vessels in an ocean, not needing to understand what is going on underneath, concerned only with the navigational directions on our radar screens. But sometimes, sometimes we are confronted with a storm. A storm that forces us to take off our well defined blinders and look around. A storm that coerces us into finally grasping the relationship between who we are and what is out there. A storm that, by bombarding us with conflicts, we understand the nature of our internal conflictions and finally, yes finally, stand up and say, this is who I am.

But sometimes, these storms carry too many conflicts for us to handle. Sometimes they capsize our ships and throw our life jackets out of our grasps. We find ourselves drowned by their media, their speeches, their proclamations and definitions. Their ideas of who we should be trap us faster than we can resolve our internal conflicts. We are extorted to make premature decisions and project before we can even comprehend who we want to be. Sometimes we try and take the stance of who we think we want to be. And in this futile attempt, our only perceived way out is to reject everything around us, to be anti-this and counter-that; blindly radical in our exertions if only to retain a part of who we want to be. Resultantly, we are left gasping for air and end up alienating ourselves from who care about us the most.

But in this we are still conscious of a greater purpose, a greater connection, even if it is only captured in the blink of an eye.

We retain hope and recognize our potential for growth.


And unification.








And reunification.




And sometimes we submit, trapped and boxed into the definitions that are imposed on us in our time of despair. And moved by our desire to help those dearest to us, we commit actions unjustifiable in any other context. We are seduced by the frame from which to operate and fail to analyze the picture. We sacrifice ourselves and others for a cause which we can only offer meager shallow explanations for its logic and spirit.

But, who here is really at fault? Who is really the victim? And to what extent can blame be carried by those without direct agency?…Or maybe I am trusting too much in humanity and wishing that if people knew the implications of what they were doing, they wouldn’t do it.