There's only so much my pen can cure

Cose terribili e bellissime scomparire; e al loro posto, quel che è peggio, il nulla. La distruzione della terra, la distruzione nelle bombe, lo svuotamento dei cuori e delle menti.

Eppure dalla disumanità generale, sorge a piccole bolle e frammenti un’umanità bellissima, figlia non voluta dell’alchemica dissoluzione.

Non so se conoscete Sófia Servando Baig.

Una ventina d’anni, musulmana, canadese, di origine cinese, pakistana e latinoamericana tutto insieme.

Il nostro sogno e il loro incubo.

Sófia Servando Baig recita semplicemente le proprie poesie.

Segnando a fuoco gli ascoltatori, perché nelle sue parole si coglie il male dei nostri tempi, lo spirito e il senso della rivolta, ma con quell’equilibrio e dignità particolare che può venire anche dall’Islam.

Perché la furia politica, così giusta e necessaria, è sempre a rischio, se non è in armonia con qualcosa che vada al di là dell’immediatezza.
 

Questa immagine, che compare sulla copertina dei suoi CD, non le somiglia affatto: quando recita, indossa abiti islamicamente modesti e un paio di occhiali e si coglie un’immensa tensione tra fuoco interiore ed evidente timidezza.

Però mi piaceva perché sulla mano sinistra porta, dipinta con la henna, la parola jihâd, "lotta", e su quella destra, salâm, "pace". Proprio lo spirito che i ribelli dei nostri tempi dovranno avere, se non vorranno farsi divorare dalla complicità oppure dalla follia.

Se conoscete abbastanza bene l’inglese da apprezzare la recitazione poetica, vi consiglio di andare sulla sua pagina personale, dove potete sentire alcuni dei suoi testi.    

Intanto, vi presento l’unico suo testo di cui sia riuscito a trovare le parole già scritte.

Una poesia che è insieme Iraq, Palestina e tutte le nostre periferie urbane.

Chiedo scusa se non trovo adesso il tempo per tradurlo, né di trascrivere dall’audio altre sue poesie.

Please excuse me for the words that I am about to say,

How many of our brothers and sisters get killed each and every day?

People ask me,

"Sister, why do you speak with so much harshness?

Why are you so angry?"

I say, I find it hard to look past all this darkness,

I find it hard to look up to the stars in the sky,

Knowing that others are doing the same,

Yet they’re running scared from the bombs that will soon end their lives.

I find it hard to get to sleep at night,

Knowing that others are going through the same,

Because they’re scared that they wont see past this night,

Another life dying in vain.

 

So please excuse me for the words that I am about to say,

Because sadly in this day and age,

Fighting wars & cashing in seem to be one in the same,

While blood pours through the streets,

And my people cry in the East,

Were pumping their blood in our tanks,

Imitating some type of "terror squad", while we "lean back" in our seats.

 

My mind can’t handle what my heart feels,

And it’s hard to live this life,

Without it slowly turning into steel.

Although I try to dissect the pain,

There’s only so much my pen can cure,

There’s only so much I can write about humanity’s shame.

 

Although we think that this world is progressing,

The only thing I see is history repeating itself,

Civilizations transgressing.

Where one day we celebrate a wall being destroyed,

While the next we give rise to another,

Where a whole group of people rape, murder, and steal, trespassing on soil.

 

I thought South Africa abolished apartheid,

So why is there an open prison being built in the East,

While here in the West we turn a blind eye.

Where there’s dehumanization of a whole nation,

Where bombs aren’t transported in vehicles,

They’re strapped to teenage boys and girls,

Drowning in desperation,

Where the battle field is the classroom for 5 year old children,

Finger painting with blood,

Blinded by hate and devoid of love,

Where studying the ak-47 is an art,

Where human beings are treated like animals,

Where invaders lack any heart,

They kill anything that moves,

They just want their mission to be done,

Even if it means the killing of an innocent father trying to protect his son.

Where homes are nothing but barren.

Where children cry so loud,

You can hear them from the highest of Heavens.

Where babies are being born without complete body parts,

Because of some war that happened before they were conceived,

Little babies being born without the breath of life,

Because of some war over pride and greed.

Where countries invade others,

Using freedom as their slogan,

Freeing the people from oppression?

Please, the only thing I see is oil being stolen.

 

So please excuse me for the words that I am about to say,

Because I will not allow my words to slowly die and fade,

I will not allow my words to be just words,

Insh’Allah theyll uncover the injustice,

And bring the oppressors exactly what they deserve.

 

So ask me again why I’m so angry,

Why I’m so full of rage,

I cant seem to stay happy,

Because children are dying at such a young age.

Ask me again why I speak with so much harshness?

When everyday I wake up with a pain in my chest,

Anxiety stricken,

Because this life is such a mess,

Ask me again why I sometimes find it hard to smile,

When I can’t erase the image of little babies being shot in the head,

These images, so vile.

Ask me again why I sometimes get quiet in a crowd,

Even when I feel a little sense of enjoyment,

I can’t seem to get their cries out of my head, screaming in my mind, their dying cries so loud.

 

So don’t excuse me for the words that I have just said,

Because I will not stay silent in this mute lifeless world,

I will not allow the injustices to die with the dead

.