My Mother's Son

I have never seen her

Although her eyes I have, they say

Her voice too I have never heard

But I was told, she sang like a bird

I was told she was very beautiful

Her skin soft as snow

Her form that graced a thousand stars

Defined beauty for us, you know

She had to leave however, one night

They came and took her away

In the middle of the night

They packed her out

Left my father in a pool of tears

And while she grabbed my brother

I was left behind

I haven’t seen them for twenty-five years

My father long passed by

Neither did he ever again

See his other son and wife

We got her regular letters for sure

And growing pictures of my brother

But of her face we never got to see

Not in a postcard nor a picture

I grew up in Damascus

The oldest city that ever was

As Syrian as one could get

Yet I was both Muslim and Christian

Speaking Arabic, French and English

Never crossed the Mediterranean Sea

Nor into the Iraqi desert

Lebanon kept me hemmed in

While Israel watched my borders

A true Arab I told myself

I was born to live and lead

To help my people live in the desert

And not necessarily to cross over

In the land of my ancestors

We loved our music and our women

We are an old people, you know

So a lot to learn, in order to live
Even if we are stubborn

And then my brother did come to visit

But not alone did he come

He came with schools, cars and education

Lack of knowledge, he said, was our sin

I showed him our ancient cuneiform

And treasures rivalling the very best of old Egypt

The land that groomed Cicero’s teacher

And the writings out of Apamea

He persisted that we need to be civilized

With genuine concern and a dismissive hand

With our protests, came out his planes and guns

The warning was clear and loud

You better heed, it’s only for your good

Then one day he came to visit me

To my village, and to my home

I made a feast to welcome him

And invited the village in

With their Dabkeh they greeted him

And their sword dances sought to woo

The food was spread with splendour

The houses adorned with lights

It was magical yet not mystical

As real as any summer evening can be

My neighbours showered their love

Total strangers hugged and kissed him

They made him feel so much at home

He forgot he was the other

He began to move and shake his leg

And forgot he was near Aleppo

I took a step backwards
Away from the dancing crowd

To watch my mother’s son dance

His movements not dissimilar to mine

Although it’s been twenty and five long years

I was seeing him for the first time

He was not so other

In spite of all the difference

Our views of our worlds in which we live

And the stories we tell each other

May seem as far as east is from the west

But in our bodies, and in our movements

In our quests for life, in our very existence

We had a lot more in common

I took his hand, drew him from the dance

We walked into the setting sun

Without a word on our lips

Twin brothers were we

Our beloved mother’s womb we had shared

Under our father’s watchful eyes

We had entered this world together

The time to speak has at last come

To open our mouths in utterance

The power lay in the language we use

As we seek to understand the other
To kill or to live and to let live

The pen is mightier than the sword, it’s said

And words more mightier than the pen

All we have are our words

Words that conjure up our realities

Words that create meaning

The very worlds in which we live

And so we hope and desperately hope

That the words of our mouth

Would become a home

And that we will live together
For better or worse
For richer for poorer
In sickness and in health
To love and to cherish
Brothers, sons of the same mother

Brainerd Prince

20 May 2012, Oxford