Repeat after me
By D. Senda
Say these words after me hi
Say I’m not a victim, say it and mean it
I know you’re hurting
And you may not get it now while going through it
But there’s an answer waiting right now
Washing and wishing away in tears and doubting
For what with our mouths we confess
We pray to occur in our lives
Say the words.
With conviction say them
Say them from the hilltops of your pride
If you have to soar like an eagle soar
Inflate if you have to like a peacock
For every word that departs your lips conditions your mind
I am not a victim, say it nice and loud
Tell me this.
Who tells the waves of the seas to rise after they crash?
But don’t they just?
And the dust, who ever said it deserves to kiss the skies?
If dirt made for the ground will not lie on the ground in the face of a storm
What of you made and ordained to rule over all that creeps and crawls?
All that so you can sit on your self-made sword?
And drink of your cup of pity? I am not a victim!
Say it, repeat after me
I am not a victim!
I am not a victim!
I am not a victim!
I hope you mean it.
Recalling Kwame Nkrumah
“Countrymen and women, the task ahead is great indeed, and heavy is the responsibility; and yet it is a noble and glorious challenge - a challenge which calls for the courage to dream, the courage to believe, the courage to dare, the courage to do, the courage to envision, the courage to fight, the courage to work, the courage to achieve - to achieve the highest excellencies and the fullest greatness of man. Dare we ask for more in life? ”
- Kwame Nkrumah, Address to the National Assembly. 12 June 1965
Freedom’s dream in cell 46664
27 years had passed, and the skin
of prison cell No. 46664 stank of a
human right denied
Feebly, the freedom fighter
gazed at the light that beamed from a dream he had carved in his spirit,
In that prison, his dream to fight man’s domination over another still glowed
The freedom fighter lifted his left fist into the air,
As though seeking heaven’s answer,
Cherishing the idea of a free society
In that dark and cockroach-infested space Read more
For peace, for justice, for Mohammed Omer
As we fight our battles in Zimbabwe, let us remember that the fight for justice is universal. Here is a letter I just received from a young Palestinian journalist who was recently beaten up by Israeli security officers. Mohammed, our prayers are with you.
—————————-
Mohammed Omer
By Mohammed Omer
I am a Palestinian journalist from Gaza. At the age of 17, I armed myself with a camera and a pen, committed to report accurately on events in Gaza. I have filed reports as Israeli fighter jets bombed Gaza City. I have interviewed mothers as they watched their children die in hospitals unequipped to serve them because of Israel’s embargo. I have been recognized for my reporting, even in the United States and United Kingdom, where I have won two international awards. I have also been beaten and tortured by Israeli soldiers.
This summer, at age 24, I was honored to learn that I had become the youngest journalist to receive the Martha Gellhorn Prize for Journalism, named for the famed American war reporter and awarded to journalists who counter propaganda with the truth. Although Israel has sealed Gaza’s 1.5 million Palestinians in what many now call the world’s largest open-air prison, Dutch MP Hans Van Baalen lobbied the Israeli government to let me leave Gaza to receive my award in person.
Upon my return from London, I was surrounded by Israeli security officers. Read more
The narrow path
In the woods, a narrow path jumps out of the blankness
And snakes underneath shadows of thorn trees
Into the hidden valley
It looks cleanly swept
As if many feet have journeyed upon it
In search of God-knows what
That which exists beyond the realm of the transient present
A search out of the frozen reality of being
The path closes at my feet,
And for some reason I wish I was the moon
Free to awaken dark azures
Beyond the thorn trees, I suddenly see the path opens widely Read more
Dreaming a different dream
Dreaming a different dream is hard,
A dream with eyes wide open, a dream
That makes blood within to boil with renewed passion,
A dream that weaves music like a butterfly’s wings,
Fluttering and swinging against the sun
Filled with a hope of an unfolded morrow, a dream
That fills the Soul Read more
