The Lake of Blood
Abdulkhalik Kitan
Translated by:Khaloud Almuttalibi
To the deceived martyr Faez Fadhel Abbas
To the Iraqis in their daily anguish
Do you see these torn off limbs?
When every day, the city streets are coloured with blood
And old women beat themselves on television
While fathers say goodbye to their flesh and blood one by one
God do you see these severed members?
Do you think of the wisdom behind that?
The wisdom of blood shed
draught
And hunger?
*******
This country is the icon of affliction
Where dictators and adulterers are passing through
Each time the same scene is repeated
*****
I was hiding behind the window
When intimidating soldiers burst into the street
Firing heavily at fleeing children
Families were barred from weeping
*******
The city was considered a frontier
Each hour, bodies were brought to its hospitals
At first this was done by carefully prepared trucks
Year after year
Then they were loaded on donkey drawn carriages
What was considered to be a border city became a war front
The war consumed uncountable lives
Did you see?
Where you there?
Did you hear the cries of the wounded on the edge of death
******
Then March came
The crowd was lined up to be taken captive
Cruel headsmen carrying sticks and whips
While the crowds were jumping towards the river
which swallowed them
And even larger crowds were buried on its banks
O beautiful river:
The companion of the fields and villages
Do you
remember your dead friends
*******
Years pass by, the girls shrivel and lose their youth
The poor are ravaged by disease
We were looking for a buyer
We have sold the house and its slums
The milk and silver
We have sold and sold
At last we sold the head of this body
A hand of another
A heart, kidney and an eye
We sold and sold
until our terrified mother cried
There is nothing left at home but the corpses
The streets, factories and cafeterias ,
were packed with corpses
******
Did not you see all of that?
******
April came
Then June
With regiments of small men killing the rest
None of our older fathers
noble women
Or any of our insane
Can unravel the mystery of what is happening
Those who were robbed of their will;
The poor in this vast land
Decided to seek you
You were the only one to whom they whispered their secrets
O God
What is your solution?
We are tired of what is happening
we are no longer able to weep
Our voices have been carved out
Like the limbs of our men
We are tired of the permissible space
******
We Create our own story
just like a river
And you are the one who makes the wrong decision about
When it is going to flood
or dry up
*******
Adelaide
16.8.2007