Anwer has become a dear friend to me. The beauty is that I’m a Christian, and He’s a Muslim. I hope other’s can see that art, poetry, beauty, and conversation can expose our likenesses as much as our differences. His “Narrative Imagery” poetic style is beautiful, and we consider his work an important part of this literary blog’s collection. I especially find his poem, The War’s Garden, to be deeply lonesome and sad. It gives us a view of how a person feels when they grow up and live in constant war and violence. I hope you become a fan of Anwer as I have. He is widely published in numerous magazines, websites, and anthologies. Enjoy!
I’m Muslim from Iraq and as any human I like the sun and I have dreams, but I am not an American or British, so I have no friend from these lands. Yes, my father had headband, and my grandfather had a woolen mantle, but this can’t make me a rejected creature. We know the gazes of the birds and the sounds of the water and we know the tales of the moon and the dreams of the lovers, but this won’t help to prevent the rejection. In fact, I am not an ugly creature, and the veil of my mother is to keep our beauty in a special manner and not to hide the repulsiveness.
I’m not a Terrorist
I am an Arabic man, and like you, I feel the preciosity of the life and the depth of the smile. I have a family and children, and like you, I like the coffee, and eat the eggs and cheese on the breakfast. I am a farmer from the south, and all what I bring in my pockets are the orange. I like the poetry very much, and write for peace and Beauty. I am a Muslim writer from Iraq, and I’m not a terrorist as you think.
The trees leaves are green, but we can’t hate the purple one, and we can’t assemble all the violence to fire the blue leaf. The colors of flowers tell us the story of difference’s beauty, the sounds of the birds teach us the wideness of our colored word and the differences in our names point the deep mosaic of our presence. I’m Abumohammed from Iraq, and you are Davidson from England, and all what I can tell you, that colors are not barriers, but flowers of beauty.
The War’s Garden
I am an Iraqi man; my life is postponed and my face was stolen by wars. My voice is vaporous as a shadow and my dreams’ clothes are as short as my laugh. I am an Iraqi man; know nothing about the beauty or Detian Falls. I don’t want a colorful hat, or a golden watch. All what I want; the water of Euphrates lives a day without blood, and the shells leave the crushed ribs of Babylon. When you visit my garden won’t find but sadness and you will see nothing but the stolen faces.
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