Al-Jazeerah: Cross-Cultural Understanding

Opinion Editorials, August 2009


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The land of the freedom OR the land of the oppressed?

A Poem

By Laila Lois

August 26, 2009
Where is the place that tears seem to end?
And laughter might then begin
The place where the moon can reflect
The smiles of many faces
Where is the place that has no grief?
That shelters one from life’s harsh winds
That blow with windshields below the norm
And freeze your nose and earlobes
What is the sense of this world?
When one is born crying and then when older dies in pain
Like a revolving door
Pain is pushed from human to human
Around… in and out
 Pain does not seize to exist
If pain was a human we all would be murderers
Even the gazelles would soon learn to kill
They are tired of being a prey
For have you wondered
Why they have so many predators?
They can’t even eat without being on the watch
The beautiful and innocent seem to have the most pain
If the land one is born to has shed so many bloods
The Indian, the black, the Japanese
And now the Arabs….
Are being demeaned, stripped of their rights and terrorized
The land of the freedom OR the land of the oppressed
Our soul has become numb
Like the wind in autumn when it slaps the trees
And makes the leaves fall to the harsh ground
The tree shakes itself in relief
And the leaves then start to grief
They dry without their mother tree
And are stepped on by all who passes by
Has one even thought to wonder?
That maybe a leaf can feel
The stomp of one’s harsh feet
The numbness of our soul
The selfishness of our hearts
The me and I and then I and me
While hundreds die from cold and starvation
Here in USA one always says me
Oh you whom your soul has become numb
Think of someone other than yourself
The days come and go so fast
One minute one is a live the next struck by a car and dead
What have you gained from all that you posses?
The earth now shakes from our injustices
And soon it will sit still and become numb





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