Treasure Island

nadia abduljabbar

(25/5/1957 / Makkah)

Exeter Too? ! But America Wins


While I was walking
In your calm lay
Beside that bay,
Tears were dropping
Like a shower or rain,
My eyes could not
Stop or Hold;
Can a dove control
A group of hawks.

Its time for
A final farewell, then,
Well…they say:
History repeats itself.

Betrayal was the end
Of my Love for you;
I truly loved you
Believing you are clean
From the inside
As the outside
And all of your
People as well;
But that's the mistake
Of the so romantic
Poet inside me,
For there are good
And bad people
Every where
And in any place.
The Qur'an never
Generalize about people
Even about disbelievers
And so should
The believers do.

But…well….History
Repeats itself,
I remembered
Lawrence of Arabia
He seemed clean to Arabia's
Naïve Nations then,
He came to the Arab's
Land that was full
Of ignorance then,
After studying their
Weak points and
Shortcomings, Pretending
He is a friend
To create problems;
To arouse more
Enmity between them,
To pave the way
For the invaders
To have control
On the wealth and
The land as well.
To some British
He was a hero,
To others, he was
A good spy,
To the Arabs
He was just a liar,
Malice was his way,
Some British people
Put him on a pedestal
And made a memorial
For him, and some did
Not like him,
Their valuesPrevented
Them from accepting
His deception and lies,
To the Arabs
He does not
Deserve to be
Mentioned and
Might be in
The garbage of History
Of their weak past
Which is changing fast
As the nature of days is.

Arabs lost their glory,
When they misunderstood
The essence of their Faith.
As a result they were
Controlled after they
Controlled most of the world.
But their weak past
Is changing fast
As the nature of days is.

Some people who
Lived in Exeter
A bunch of the so called
Friends or rather
Intellectual mates
Wanted to hurt me;
To destroy me
My being full of life
Full of Faith
Full of enthusiasm
For my work,
Was too much for them
To Take;
It hurts hauteur
To see different
But good beings
In other nations,
How could I be
So different but good,
How dare I be out
Of the frame
Of the stereotype:
The matrix
They designed
To imprison the Arabs;
How could I be
Religious but open,
Intellectual but
Not complicated
So shamelessly
They lied about my work
About the goodness
Of my writing;
Just because I'm a believer
In a different way,
They talk about democracy;
Ideas in the air,
With no application
Especially with the OTHER ones:
I rarely believe in conspiracy,
But it was a conspiracy after all;
Every contradiction says so,
They said they are impressed
But I can't continue with them,
Finally they said:
I should leave because
I was sick,
Well I am sick of
The deception of
The politics of the WEST.

Yet America opened
A door for me,
And I remembered
An English proverb:
When the Lord
Closes the door
He somehow
Opens the window.


London
2007

Submitted: Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Edited: Tuesday, November 20, 2012

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