Pen as a Weapon

“If I Must Die” By Refaat Alareer

If I must die,

you must live

to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh

not even to himself—

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there

bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope
let it be a tale

Do you know this poem? I didn't, until recently. I happened to watch a documentary about the author and this poem on NHK (Japanese public broadcast) and was deeply touched.

My heart has been aching and feeling perplexed with such brutal wars still going on in 21st century. Didn't we learn our painful lesson long long time ago? I simply can't comprehend and feel sad about the situations (the war in Ukraine in mind, too).

I pray, yet I also feel awfully helpless. So, this poem was such an inspiration.

I heard his interview where he was saying "I am an academic. Probably the toughest thing I have at home is an Expo marker. But if the Israelis invade, if they barge at us, charge at us open door-to-door to massacre us, I am going to use that marker to throw it at the Israeli soldiers, even if that is the last thing that I would be able to do. And this is the feeling of everybody. We are helpless. We have nothing to lose."

He must have felt helpless, too. He was a professor and a poet. Poetry (arts in general for that matter) is very impractical. It is easy to dismiss them --almost like a frill in life. It's nice to have, but not a "must". I hear trying to find a job is much more challenging than some other disciplines---say engineering, IT, medicine etc. Yes, I see the point. But sometimes, pen can be a powerful weapon to move people. The documentary was showing university campus demos with young people rallying for this cause. They had hand signs of his poem.

His story has been told in mighty ways, and we don't see the war ending yet, it has given me hope.

This poem is also special because I felt like he was cheering on us to write, too. Story is forgotten (or it doesn't even exist) unless it is written. It could be your story, or your loved one's story. Do you have such stories to share with the world?