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Poetry

   

 

 Kabul Press, World Media Home

The world has gone crazy

Basima Farhat

The world has gone crazy, all at once. I am not sure if it is me that has grown non tolerant or if the world has grown none tolerant. 9- 11, my health, my son, Adil failed his medical exam again, my Nancy is frightened, my Alex and Jules are already quitting counseling. Nicole and Nicolas are moving away, Joanne is angry again, Frida is once again trying to be a mom without failing. Charlie has hepatitis, Fairuz is going blind 

My people are being slaughtered and no one cares, the victim is being persecuted and the aggressors condoned. Children crawl in the streets and die in the dirt.


I hurt

I dont know how to feel anymore.1

I feel at times to have grown beyond all that I had ever thought possible

yet on the other hand I am terrified that

I have lost my ability to feel the slight nuances

of compassion to this growth process.1

Was what I used to feel, merely responsibility?1

And if it was responsibility, is responsiblity

without guilt attached to it, acceptable to society?1

Today, I dont think so.1

To most it looks outwardly as a lack of caring

I care today beyond any caring I have ever known possible,

yet I have aquired the ability, to so easily let go the useless black plague of thoughts.

From the outside looking in, one must see an un-caring bitch.

A woman so filled with her own thoughts, she has become thought-less.

There was a time when I would lie awake nights and worry.

Emersed insanely, intensely, incessantly, obsessively in a thought-filled place.

A place of non-action.1

A place of frozen limbs.1

Limbs numbed by tense muscles.1

Numbed by the sleepless tossing and turning.1

Limbs burning with exhaustion, begging for the mercy of sleep to over take them.

Begging for a moment of reprive from duty.1

A sentinal of the night.1

Now it seems as if these thoughts slip so easily from my mind

Not finding hospitality in my joints or muscles as before.1

Now they go to places like God, and into the abyss.1

The useless bytes of cyber thoughts that used to consume me, now have little hold

but still

such times as today, the pain is so deep it seems my eyes become,

a peretual garden filled of water lilys


It is as if I feel the need to worry,1

As if not to worry was a reflection on my human-ness

As if not worrying makes me less careing.1

It is no longer a productive part of life but just as a limb is aputated I continue to feel it

it is now the most painful of my phantom pains

I feel less a loving human being than before my shedding of the layer of skin called responsibilty

yet I have never loved more or even thought it possible to love

at the depth of love as I do this day within this moment.

I know that all life is mere illusion

I know that nothing is real but the workings of our imaginings

yet I still flay and sway so often to the winds of this worlds plight

flaying like a fish out of water, struggling to catch my breath as I stand

witness to atrocity

witness to insanity

witness to depravity

witness to hypocrisy

witness the anger welling inside me at the mere action

of writing down these hideous words

human one moment

subhuman the next

and in-between

here I am caring

but with detachment

it frightens me this detachment

it horrifies my senses

to think that I have spent so many years

trying to become detached

from those I love the most.1

Such insane dichotomy

such a loss for the words to describe my pain at this moment

I sit here listening to the singer Fairuz and

her voice is filled with lament

Lament, such a word is what I feel

I lament for the world

I lament for the children forced to be their own parents

In a world of parents struggling in the useless process of worry.

Lost sleepy sentinals guarding their posts with such pain filled dedication

I fear for my childern that I have raised

Raised to believe that through right action

all things good shall come to them that ask

forgetting to tell them of the elements of chance that exist in the Universe

What of the dark forces existant in all things, that throw monkey wrenchs

into Gods handiwork

The humanitys sewers are over flowed with worry

Filled with a wasted eons of worry

Eternal seconds of useless thought, flushed into the Universal toilet

flushed down the throat of all who lie sleepless in the night.1

The minds sewage floating freely, filling time and space with

of the worst kind of human waste,1

Worry

It is days like today that I see the human race as waste

days when I see brother kill brother knowing, all the while, that we are all brothers

days like today when I see that not all, but much is in vain

days that I feel that it would be easier to ask for my first class ticket

back to heaven or mult -heavens, for they must be forever expanding like all

things in the Universe

such a sweet thought in the middle of all the other bitter ones

days like today when I feel as if my arms are as thick as tree trunks

too heavy to carry any more burdens

and all at the same time my feet planted so firmly,1

that all come to me, to feel renewed

So strange

They (people) see me in so many ways.1

They talk as if I was crazy and the only insanity,1

is that I have spent years trying to get this way

Trying to become detached with love, but all they see is uncaring

Trying to become attached to my emotions, but all they see are my tears.

Trying to find balance in an unbalanced world, and all they see is apathy.

Trying to live my truth, but they want only to see the lie.1

Trying to speak my truth but all they hear are words with no reason.

Trying to work my craft, and all they see is futility

I write poetry and all they see, is that it does not rhyme.1


  ***                                                                  
Ms. Farhat is currently working on a number of projects in the field of human potential development. As a writer and freelance journalist she is working on a book dealing with the Human Energy fields and how it pertains to unlimited human development. As a screenwriter she has just completed, “The Tatesville Casket Company A screenplay dealing with the paramount issues of the death and dying process. Ms. Farhat is a member in good standing with the Writers Guild of America, as well as along time member of the Ridge Writers, a group of professional and amateur writers in Farmington Hills Michigan
Her work also includes poetry, having been invited by numerous organizations for
poetry readings within the cultural community in the Detroit area. The most current being, Cinco deMayo/Umissiyah Fanniyah, an annual cultural event produced in conjunction with the Latino community and Access, both are social service and cultural organizations in the Detroit metropolitan area. These two community outreach organizations offer humanitarian aid and deal with social issues as well as employment training and placement within the Latino and Arab communities in the Metro Detroit area.1

She is involved in a number of cultural community organizations, and currently serves as President of the Detroit Ramallah Women's Club. The Ramallah Club of Detroit is a local chapter of the Federation of Ramallah. The Federation is the largest organized Arab social group in the United States, with a membership of over 35,000 people worldwide.

 

RAHA/1/Apr/2003

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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