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 Re: مذبحة فض الاعتصام.. تحذير من محتوى مؤلم (Re: محمد البشرى الخضر)
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Trigger Warning
They ask you to testify,
Tell them your side of the story,
As if talking about the evils you witnessed will cure you,
Or the world,
Or put your unease,
Or anyone's,
at peace.
"Who killed them؟" They casually ask,
"Did you see the devil؟"
"What did you do while they crucified christ؟"
"Did they really rape his mother mary on the road؟
"Where were you؟"
"What were you there for؟"
"How many miles did you run for؟"
"Who fired the bullets؟"
"Who was hit by them؟"
"What did you think about؟"
"Who were you scared of losing؟ Who was scared of losing you؟"
"Did you run towards death or did you run for your life؟"
"Is your skin still scarred؟"
"Do you wish you weren't there؟"
"Did it change you؟"
"Did you bleed؟"
"Did you die though؟"
"Are you grateful for making it out alive؟"
I am not the enemy,
Survival guilt is.
It catches you in blissful moments,
Then curses them.
Blames you for missing the bullets,
For not looking back,
For not falling,
For not holding more hands along the way,
It does not care that you only have two.
Survival guilt irrationally blames you for people's death,
Calls you a Grim reaper,
Says death follows you everywhere because you once wished for it
Aren't you an old friend of azrael؟
It enslaves you,
Condemns you to carry dead bodies on your shoulders,
From one dream to the other,
In your wake,
It whips your back,
Wraps a leash around your neck,
Drags you around on the bloodied pavement until your skin is scattered all over it,
And when you're finally deformed,
It tosses you back to the world.
So you apologize to the world,
Reintroduce yourself into it with trigger warnings.
I'm not the person I'd promised you I'd become, or nor the person I spent a lifetime wanting to be.
I'm sorry, I..
spent a sentence in hell,
And came back with burnt speech.
They ask me to testify,
But what do I testify for when I am not the same man who went through what I'm testifying for,
No man can step into hell and walk out of it the same,
For, after that, hell lingers within him,
His skin only an imitation of human,
His body a vessel for trauma,
And his brain hindered by the phantom of who he once was.
His presence an embodiment of sadness and grief.
I am not the enemy,
The sadness within me is,
I say sadness because I know no better word,
to describe this
Contamination,
Like cancer, it grows over everything else,
Spreads across your limbs,
Tarnishes your emotions,
Breaks your heart into fragments,
Dips it into black ink,
Paints abominations on the walls,
Shouts profanities onto your ears,
Then through your mouth.
And when it's done making an abomination out of you,
It hurts those it finds by yourside...
Through you.
I try to forbid it,
But I'm merely its slave.
So,
They ask me to testify but I take a vow of silence first thing in the morning,
Then break it first things at night.
I am not fit to testify,
Or speak, or be spoken to.
Not one to be accompanied or walked by,
Or dealt with.
I am only a memory of what they ask me to testify about.
When terrible happenings take place,
Terrible results occur.
And I am but a terrible result of a terrible happening.
Terrible, terrorized, terrifying, traumatized, terrified, and tired.
They ask me to testify,
Again,
And I ask them this time,
"Am I as hideous as the things I saw؟
Do these bloodstains on my hands scare you؟
Or do the stories about death on my face bore you to death؟
Are you tired...
Of these repeated syllables
Of my repeated speeches,
And promises,
And broken vows of silence؟
Terrible, terrorized, terrifying, traumatized, terrified, and tired.
I'm worn out,
Tired of being wary,
Of tracing back my steps
I'm scared of foolproofing my testimonies,
And of repeating them the same,
Until they have no meaning.
I'm guilty of all the things they want me to testify against.
They ask me to testify and I ask you,
Do not hate me,
Do not abandon me,
Do not leave me alone,
And,
Forgive me,
For not giving a testimony.
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