A Home To Thousands.

I have been reading a lot of poetry these past couple of days. Mostly the ones that aren’t far from contemporary; the likes of Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Mahmoud Darwish. Both exiled from their motherland; one died away from home and the other died several times under occupation before breathing his last.

Their work not only reflects the turmoil in their lives but longing for home, an unmistakable agony of being driven away, a separation, an injustice.

It is no wonder that their poems have turned into a war cry for people who bear similar fate.

Faiz’s words are echoed by masses parading through streets in protest of annexation and draconian laws. It is almost poetic how his phrases have found a home in people who face disenfranchisement and exile.

Mahmoud Darwish finds his reflections in the poetry of an early Palestinian poet who is still searching for words to describe the stab he feels in his heart as he buries five of his family members.

Faiz and Darwish are long gone, but their remembrance is common in times of pain and war. And their frequent remembrance is an indication of the times that are.

Being in exile themselves, they gave people a home; one made with stringed words. A place that understands them, comforts them.

And I often ask myself the question — What a strange bargain. To lose a home only to become one for thousands.