Now sleeps he
With insurgency
Who, yesterday, denied him thrice.
Soften him up.
Now sleeps he
With insurgency
Who, yesterday, denied him thrice.
Pause. Wait for the detainee to catch his breath.
Did you deny them?
Soften him up.
Do you fight for this old country
with the insurgency
with your life?
Soften him up.
I do.
I do.
I do.
Man judaa girya kunaan, abr judaa, yaar judaa
I weeping separately, the clouds separately, the friend separately…..
Repeat after me separately
I do
I do
I do, separately
It is continued
In the next war we shall interrogate the poets
In the next war we shall interrogate the poets
The Koran shall come packaged in every MRE
The Koran shall come packaged in every MRE
You don’t need to repeat this. It’s in your
Today no one tortures because transparency is of the utmost
Softening, alone, is retained, but it is only used as an auxiliary.
Tightening the screws is retained.
It means that which one must suffer without any permanent or
profound psychological damage.
Those of us who return talk very slowly, and we look
at one another with infinite love and poetry.
This comes only after prolonged detention and is one of the
final symptoms.
There has been irritation, anger, fear, doubt, confessions,
denials, misinterpretations, mistakes, cowardice, inability and
lack of talent for drowning.
All this has been and will be again. To be counterbalanced
by firmness, steadiness, courage, honor of family and the
ability to both resist and to fight.
But now, for a moment, there is only love and poetry.
Know how to endure. And only love and poetry.
Repeat it.
Only love and poetry.
For the Americans too?
Man judaa girya kunaan, abr judaa, yaar judaa
Then it is not love.
Not for the Americans too. And
Yes, it is love and poetry.
How can you write that here?
How can you write the other?
Not that we ask for more. Not that we wish ever any. Not that
we wish any all. Not that we want any greater.
But when submerged in that undiscovered country
from whose stream no traveler returns who hasn’t been
We walked away from this we cannot state. And in us
died this inner knowing that grows – fresher and lovelier than
any rose. Manured by death and watered only with unshed
tears until, this day, it flowers into this love and this
Not for you.
No. I am sorry.
Then it is not complete.
No, nor will it be ever.
There is an occupation
(a fucking invading army)
Only love and poetry.
Reach out your hand to Love’s dark sister Hate, and walk with
her into the bowels of Abu Ghraib, and see if Love is
waiting in the dark. Or who is waiting there instead.
Did I tell you that my land is a target of opportunity?
Love’s lovely sister
Never wholly wrong
Nor more than half right
Love lightly leaves without a trace and her dark sister fills in all the
All the cells so neatly filled
The communication clear and good, where Love’s is often quite unintelligible
Whispered lightly in a hurry as she smiled,
Giving unimportance to the words.
Do you think there within a cage, we’ll find her there?
No. She’s long gone. She never stands for interviews.
Knowing too well the idiocy of interrogation, Love’s always gone, leaving
us only the deserted restraints
As one finds fastened on the chair in the office of a newly licensed
Now you move slowly plodding to that room
Making feet slowly go where they know better than to take you.
Feet are wary and feet are calm
Feet of the Prophet and feet of Saddam
Feet know better
Feet won’t go.
Make feet move on slowly now
Make feet follow where guns
Lead you ahead
Where things are said
Toward the place where you’ll be wet.
Now sleeps he
With insurgency
Who, yesterday, denied him thrice.
If you know, you will pay the price
If you do not. You will. You will. You will.
But the other will.
Older than the will of Abraham.
The old long ugly will that you have faced
In all the nights and all the deserts of our hearts,<
Always coming forth like an oasis
Always sighting finally the life of the well
Now in this barren cell again
Willing to proceed
You wish me no ill will, my true friend
While you expend that which is not expendable,<
While you violate all that is inviolate,
While you destroy that which is indestructible.
With nothing more than harassing water.
Nothing more than that.
All my land is a target of opportunity.
All of us have been interned.
nd from this cell, single-occupied,
It’s floor covered with dark liquid,
Many further cells are heard.