Saturday, April 2, 2011

Life Story: Somalia...the missing home sweet it lies around the corner
A beautiful place built from ancient stones
that relentlessly recites every day the glorious history
to the remaining faithful shade trees
and there is the desert harboring the camels,
flirting with our imagination and challenging our words
to paint it’s toughness and kindness in one sentence
the elegant long shores and the ocean are watching from distance
captured by the beauty of the land
and with every wave they spread
the songs of love and wonders between the cheerful faces
and the pure souls that are the alchemy of the place
this is the place I miss ..this is home

Yet I didn't live in it
It is a soil I never touched
An air I never breathed
but like an enigma it lives within my soul
and trembles with the heart beats
An idea sheltered by the mind
and nourished by my mother's exhilarating memories ,
the passionate conversations here and there,
the sweet "buraanbur" of my grandmother,
the nostalgic vibe from that hard working immigrant
flavoring his numb reality with the irresistible daydreams
that takes him back to his warm neighborhood
nourished by that young man's anxiety searching for an identity to
cover his naked soul in a world not of his choice
by the aroma of the hopes that keeps the refugee camps habitable
hopes that one day peace will reside with us again

an idea that attracts ambiguous images
like butterflies in the dark of the night
images that keep talking and talking
about the young men & women
who believed they can change the world
about the sweat and the blood
that ignited the dawn of freedom
and woke up the pride within our souls
about a blue flag embracing a white star
that soon will reach the shores of unity
images that doesn’t stop reminiscing
the beauty of sixties and seventies ,
reminiscing the patriotic feelings that
where encrypted within our actions , words and dreams

and i kept listening.....trying to understand !!
but it needed a sixth sense that i never had
things the sons of today , My senses couldn't understand
yet as citizen of the world I kept listening and holding my bag firmly
in it you will find some memories and some hopes stained by blood and pain
be careful with them they are the only thing left from a place called home
and despite the distance.. the hardships
and the traveling from land to land..from culture to culture
I kept feeding the embryonic idea
waiting for it to be stronger
to be born to our reality…to our world
and only then we can all rest
only then the smile will regain it is sweet taste
and words and poems will rise
from ashes and celebrate
the survival of our identity,
the colors regaining their laughing spirit
and the writing of happiness flowing from the eyes
that we are finally home ..finally belong...finally secure
because simply and without metaphors
there is no place like home .
until then I will keep listening and resist the urge of walking away
can you walk away from your soul?
resisting all the luring whispers of desperation :" it is 20 yrs ..20 yrs..20yrs and the train of change didn't pass from here at all”
I will keep resisting and so do you because i was taught to be patient , listen to the circle of life , keep the hope alive by the greatest teacher ever...TIME
time that points to that day when justice arrives holding the hands of freedom to our station
on that day somebody will rejoice over their arrival it me , you, us or somebody else ?!!
it doesn’t matter !!...what matters that they have arrived.... they have arrived!
Ismail A.  Ali   
Copyright © 2011

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