RIP Mahmoud Darwish. (1942-2008)
August 9, 2008, a very sad day for Palestine. Today Palestine loses one of its most powerful voices - if not the most powerful voice. Today Palestine loses one of its strongest cultural and (its strongest) literary icons. Today humanity loses one of its most precious gifts. I had the most amazing experience of watching Mahmoud Darwish live in what was to be his last Poetry Reading in Ramallah’s Cultural Palace back in June. I echo Hanan Ashrawi’s sentiments here: “He started out as a poet of resistance and then he became a poet of conscience. He embodied the best in Palestinians … even though he became iconic he never lost his sense of humanity. We have lost part of our essence, the essence of the Palestinian being.
I leave you with Mahmoud Dawrish’s Remainder of a Life:
If I were told:
By evening you will die,
so what will you do until then?
I would look at my wristwatch,
I’d drink a glass of juice,
bite an apple,
contemplate at length an ant that has found its food,
then look at my wristwatch.
There’d be time left to shave my beard
and dive in a bath, obsess:
“There must be an adornment for writing,
so let it be a blue garment.”
I’d sit until noon alive at my desk
but wouldn’t see the trace of color in the words,
white, white, white . . .
I’d prepare my last lunch,
pour wine in two glasses: one for me
and one for the one who will come without appointment,
then I’d take a nap between two dreams.
But my snoring would wake me . . .
so I’d look at my wristwatch:
and there’d be time left for reading.
I’d read a chapter in Dante and half of a mu’allaqah
and see how my life goes from me
to the others, but I wouldn’t ask who
would fill what’s missing in it.
That’s it, then?
That’s it, that’s it.
Then what?
Then I’d comb my hair and throw away the poem . . .
this poem, in the trash,
and put on the latest fashion in Italian shirts,
parade myself in an entourage of Spanish violins,
and walk to the grave!
