The War writes its Poems: Review of Asmaa Azaiza’s book of poetry Don’t Believe Me If I Talk To You Of War

Asmaa Azaiza’s newest collection of poetry is bold, dark and triumphant. The young Palestinian woman poet’s third collection of poetry Don’t Believe Me If I Talk To You Of War was published by Almutwassit in Milano earlier in 2019. It has been translated to Dutch, Swedish and English. Azaiza’s book is an attempt to make sense of things in the context of latent war and conflict; a constant struggle for identity, culture and freedom.

Azaiza’s collection doesn’t cease to shock and surprise. In her poem “brief words from the coffin”, the speaker is lying in the coffin and she feels bored on the brink of death. The feeling of boredom in the face of death shows the absurd nature of life and death. In addition, it shows the speaker challenging the solemnity of death, of war, of God and of the society she lives in. For example, she challenges God saying

“your Lord will ask me

what have your hands done

and I will say I have no hands”

She challenges the women of her society that criticize her three tattoos and the men in her society, “whose faces are like scarecrows”. 

    The theme of war permeates throughout the book. The scars of war are apparent and traceable along Azaiza’s poems. In the poem “Sacrificial Poem”, the speaker is fascinated with the stories of prophets and their wisdom. But it is a wisdom that is lacking in the face of slaughter, as the speaker says: 

    “I want to speak like them

but my imagination is the size of a mouse hole

and all its bright, quick mice

were found slaughtered at its door.

I want to say a word about slaughter,

about the slaughtered tents

in slaughtered lands.

About their residents,

who fell from their mothers

already slaughtered.” 

The horror of war has stripped the poet out of her jocund youth. She refuses the songs of spring for her nihilistic view on life. Here is an allusion to the Arab Spring, a wave of change that swept the Arab world in 2011 giving an elusive hope of revival and sovereignty that soon dissipated and turned into a hellish reality of war and displacement. 

Azaiza’s poems are haunting. The poet is constantly witnessing the horrors of war: war in Gaza, war in Iraq, war in Syria, in Egypt, in Lebanon…etc Her triumph lies in redeeming the feeling of witnessing such horrors into beautifully weaved poems. Her triumph is turning the horror of war into art. Her triumph is liberating herself and her poetry from war and defeat.

    I always felt a certain heaviness of commitment laid upon poets in political environments to talk about certain topics, and to address political issues and to show a socio-political stance on the state of things. Azaiza, on the other hand, liberates herself from the shackles of commitment. In her poem “Day of Judgment among Other Things”, the speaker is beyond the banality of judgment; she is not judged by any religious institute nor by social norms of the Palestinian society. The speaker is breaking free with her own way of doing things. The poem begins with the following lines:

    “I was sitting on the toilet when the horn sounded

I did not leave with the others

I took no part in their panic”

The poem perceds with a list of confessions; each of which is more shocking than the one before. The speaker confesses:

“I have more pity for the setting sun

than for the children begging at crossroads

more pity for my eardrum when the slogan sounds

we die Palestine survives

you see I want to live

even in the toilet.”

I witness the speaker’s liberation from the shackles of social constructs. The speaker exemplifies the spirit of the poet beyond space and time; a poet beyond the myopic concern of politics and social norms, but it’s a poet concerned with life, death and transcendental issues. 

    In her short poem “Dragonflies”, the speaker speaks in the collective “we” voice to contemplate the future. Using the parable of the dragonfly that asked God for wings in order to fly, the speaker wonders how come we never asked God to spare us the illusion of arrival. The speaker says that we think we are arriving, but in truth we are not sure where to, for soon enough we are moving to another destination. This lack of a compass or a direction describes the state of Palestinians in general, and Palestinians in Israel in particular. 

    One cannot but believe Azaiza when she speaks of war, for her words are an honest expression; they don’t try to embellish nor maintain an appearance. Drawing on her personal experience in a region torn by war and struggle; weaving the memories of experiencing war and challenging the traditional society, Azaiza offers a complex, authentic and poignant book of poetry. I highly recommend this book to be read with care and openness.