Untitled 2 by Malika Abbas. Courtesy: Artchowk Gallery
My land is fertile, in the Fertile Crescent
Where all fruits grow.
Nothing dies in my land
In my land
Only the innocent
Are borne to die.
Sami
A madman and a poet
Planted olives there.
When the Damascus Steel
lurched in the sky
a crescent about to fall
We met in Alqush:
A vigil of Araq and poetry
Wound-salting poetry
and remedies too.
Sami
Wrote our vision in olive branches
With fruit-bearing verses.
Silly us
In my land
Olives are not allowed to grow
Only bloody pomegranates
Bursting to scatter their seeds
Refugees
Living
Breathing
Dying seeds.
My land is fertile, in the Fertile Crescent
Plant it with terrorism or olives.
Everyone sows blood, there are
Not enough madmen with olive branches.
~Â Nineb Lamassu
Nineb Lamassu is an Assyrian Iraqi poet. He is currently living in Cambridge where he is a PhD research student. Lamassu writes in his native Modern Assyrian (Neo-Aramaic) and his poetry has been translated into English, Arabic, Farsi. His ‘Flaming Cantillations’ collection is currently being translated to Kurdish, Turkish and Spanish.
