Greeting Card by Tammam Azzamm
"Death by starvation; only in Syria"
Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” has been reproduced on a devastated building in Syria by artist Tammam Azzam.
Photograph by Moises Saman
"I remember it was a clear, cold night. The moon was the only source of light in this secret section of the Orontes River demarcating the border between Syria’s Idlib province and Turkey. Standing by the riverbed on the Turkish side, the scene had an air of eerie calm — not a sound other than insects and the faraway roar of a vehicle on a Syrian road. Then suddenly I saw two lights and heard the sound of a tractor approaching the Syrian side. Minutes later, the faint sight of a canoe slowly crossing the river toward me, in it a Syrian smuggler carrying a young couple and their baby girl away from the war in Syria and into safety.
Looking back, I can’t help but think about the many phases that this conflict has endured. From the peaceful protests of the early months to the violent repression from the regime to armed resistance to all-out civil war. The country is disintegrating in slow motion before the eyes of the world.”
Read more: Syria’s Agony in Pictures: War Journalists Describe Their Photographs - LightBox
Brave New Voices finals 2012 in the Fox Theatre in Oakland. Heart wrenching poem on Syria.
martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies martyred babies
Houla, anywhere, I am not very good at wanting to live through a world with massacres like extreme weather events we don’t have warnings for.
Omar Offendum ~ #Syria
“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”
- Archbishop Desmond Tutu
حمص القصور جمعة سننتفض لأجلك بابا عمرو 24-2-2012 ج1 (by Syrian2011X)
Homs. Syrians continue to dance and sing their revolution while Assad brutally assaults and murders them. I have to look away too often from the still and video images of blood and death and torture - but I cry every time I watch Syrians dance.
حمص القصور مسائية 22-2-2012.flv (by waseemov1)
Syrians dancing and singing for their dead, dedicating their protest to the two foreign journalists Remi Ochlik and Marie Colvin, who were killed yesterday.
دمشق المزة مشهد مهيب في التشييع 18-2-2012 (by beautifullife902)
Thousands protest in Mezze, Damascus, during a snowstorm.
To apply for membership in the Syrian Writers Union and in solidarity with the Syrian people It is our honor, as Palestinian writers and signatories to this statement, to request as a group to be inducted into the Syrian Writers Union, which has been recently established by the free Syrian writers and intellectuals who stand with the people as they climb the ladder of freedom which has been smeared with blood by the hand of the tyrant. The establishment of the Syrian Writers Union constitutes an essential pillar of the Syrian revolution and places the true intellectual in his or her rightful place beside the people as an effective partner in building a new Syria free of dynastic authoritarianism–a diverse, democratic, civil system based on the rights of the citizen, one that embraces the rights of expression and creation, a system incapable of falsifying the free Syrian intellectual’s will through hollow structures that arrogate the potentials of culture, usurp the role of the intellectual and falsify his or her will, always a device in the hand of the tyrant and his apparatuses.
Now more than ever, Syria needs a mature voice that speaks from its very heart, a voice which strengthens national unity and derives strength from the diversity and richness of Syrian society […] [which will serve as] the basis for building a democracy.
We have recently heard a representative of the Syrian regime at the UN Security Council use the Palestinian cause and its painful and honorable course as cover for its terrifying crimes in Syria. We say to the Syrian regime and its representatives: not in our name, not in Palestine’s name, will these crimes be committed in our beloved Syria, oh killers. Do not make our just cause a mask for your inhumane crimes against our Syrian brothers and sisters. It is the Syrian people who have historically adopted our cause, and sacrificed martyrs for its sake, not your regime, of which we have painful memories. We will never forget its role in the massacre of Tel Az-Zaatar in 1976, nor in the terrible assault on the Nahr al Bared camp near Tripoli in 1983, nor the siege of the camps in Beirut in 1985, nor any of the other acts which have bitterly weakened Palestinian national unity. Do not use Palestine’s name, for it is no longer your winning card.
A unified, free and democratic Syria is what Palestine needs, and this is the Syria that is being born today from the womb of a bloody revolution ignited by a great people. We are confident that Palestine’s name will remain in the heart of this courageous, revolting people and its cultural elite.
Free Syria demonstration at Parliament House Canberra, Australia.
Translated from the Arabic by Sinan Antoon
At the third hour of the twentieth century
Where nothing separates the corpses
from pedestrians’ shoes
I will lie down in the middle of the street
like a bedouin sheikh
and will not get up
until all the prison bars and suspects’ files of the world
are gathered and placed before me
so I can chew on them
like a camel on the open road
Until all the batons of the police and protesters
escape from grips
and go back (once again)
budding branches in their forests
In the dark I laugh
I no longer distinguish my pen from my fingers
Whenever someone knocks or a curtain moves
I hide my papers
like a prostitute during a police raid
From whom did I inherit this fear
and this blood
scared like a mountain leopard?
As soon as I see an official paper on the threshold
or a hat through the door
my bones and tears tremble
my blood runs away in all directions
as if an eternal patrol of ancestral police
is chasing it from one vein to another
In vain I try to reclaim my courage and strength
The tragedy is not here
in the whip, the office, or in sirens
It is there
In the cradle…
In the womb
Surely I was not tied to the womb with an umbilical cord
It was a hangman’s noose