Poetry: Marwan Makhoul
I don’t read a lot of poetry, but the right poem gets into your bones and becomes a part of you. I admire how the form distills cosmic truths into concise, resonant verse that you can carry with you everywhere; an amulet for extraordinary times. When I find poetry I like, I may post it here.
Today I am featuring Marwan Makhoul, of Palestine. You can learn more about him here. He needs but four lines to tilt your whole worldview.
In order for me to write poetry that isn’t political
I must listen to the birds sing
And in order to hear the birds
The warplanes must be silent
Concise. Resonant. This is the poem that made me love poetry.
Mr. Makhoul speaks to the all-consuming nature of warfare. Warfare takes many unfamiliar forms in the modern world, but often it’s explicit, like the Wars on Drugs and Crime. In Mr. Makhoul’s case, it’s American-made military hardware in Judea.
Many Americans “don’t bother with politics” for various reasons, but their indifference is a luxury. As countless black, indigenous, and other marginalized peoples have expressed over the centuries, those without power have no choice but to reckon with politics. If there are warplanes in the sky, you can’t hear anything over the roar of jet turbines.
Floating above it all, unaware, is a privilege reserved for the political majority. I am grateful for this privilege, which was conferred to me by blessing of birth, but the rattling engine noise is faintly audible. It disturbs me. I’ve spent most of my life trying to tune it out, straining to hear the birds sing so I can create something beautiful.
Sometimes I succeed. When I fail, you’ll find me here.