GIVE PEACE A CHANCE

Weak

Weak people exist,

(here I am)

And we will stay here

Ruined because we think,

Pathetic because we feel too much,

Skeptical because we stay silent.

I

Often I think as if I were in the crowd

That goes to the squares to support the idea of politics

They don’t believe in.

That knows “their God” lies to them before their eyes and they marvel.

Now I hear someone saying to me:

“You know nothing, little one, why don’t you better stay silent?”

Yes, as if I had the voice of the politician who makes promises

That they themselves don’t understand,

Because they are scripts written by people trained to convince…

Do you remember – “The Opium of the People”?

The icy coldness is wrapping around your heart.

You prepared a cage filled with money for your soul.

You warm your hearts with burnt ideals.

How and why did you become enslaved to your excesses?

But I would stand before the one who admits we are in bad shape,

But tries to save the ship from sinking.

Who doesn’t suppress our voice,

Who doesn’t distinguish us by color,

By gender,

By sexual orientation.

We don’t want pity,

We can manage on our own,

After all, it’s one life,

We will somehow make it to the end,

But it would be a bit easier if…

II

To be before the one who comes to talk about poetry

And seeks to understand exactly what the author meant by the word “disease”

And by the word “color” and then scratches their head, face, nose…

Insecurity hides in gestures…

And they deceive themselves into thinking they understand something…

I wish I had the will of that poet

Who stands before the audience and talks about poetry

As if it were a matter of marketing.

And to tell them it’s neither about marketing

Nor about healing,

It’s about escape.

But I am with the weak. Because I was raised that way.

III

I wish I were the woman who turns her head where glances are thrown.

And to oppose…

And to say the words my female tongue forbids.

My female tongue! – oh, what a weight.

But I am with the weak. Because I was raised that way.

IV

I wish I knew how to preserve a few good things the world has:

To know by heart the verses that healed me

That autumn day when instead of coffee I thought of Sylvia Plath, Anna Karenina whose end I read only…

To remember Buddha’s words when

I saw with my own eyes that a parent hates a child, and this I believe is okay?

No, no, Buddha should open his eyes only for love?!

I wish I were strong enough to accept this. But I am with the weak…

Stop, it’s a mind game,

Because we are the strong ones

Who live according to our beliefs.

My father was uneducated but humane, teaching me only three rules:

“Don’t lie, don’t scheme, don’t steal!”

And I thought these words alone existed,

As if he had warned me about their opposites, as if…

But he was with the weak. Because he was raised that way.

V

Now,

After all, we are the strong ones because

We loved,

We lived,

We experienced…

A child’s soul in an old face,

Smiling sincerely at the sun

And we spoke to the flowers,

Caressed the birds,

Felt the roots of the trees through our bodies.

And when we said I love you

The heart filled with cherry blood.

You may say that life is elsewhere,

Go ahead, say it…

But I won’t lose the comfort of my soul for anything in the world

Even if…

Even if….

I am with the weak,

But here the sun warms…

Nurie Emrullai, 12.8.2024

Give Peace A Chance_

Nurie Emrullai, poet

Foto_privat

Walter Pobaschnig _ 12.8.2024

https://literaturoutdoors.com