A Refusal to Mourn the Death
by Fire, of a Child in London
by Dylan Thomas (1914 - 1953)
Never until the mankind making Bird beast and flower Fathering and all humbling darkness Tells with silence the last light breaking And the still hour Is come of the sea tumbling in harness And I must enter again the round Zion of the water bead And the synagogue of the ear of corn Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound Or sow my salt seed In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn The majesty and burning of the child's death. I shall not murder The mankind of her going with a grave truth Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath With any further Elegy of innocence and youth. Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter, Robed in the long friends, The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother, Secret by the unmourning water Of the riding Thames. After the first death, there is no other.
A Refusal to Mourn the Death
by Bombing, of a Child in Gaza
by David Dayson after Dylan Thomas
Never will I mourn the passing of the dead and most dead of all; children killed untimely, in their time of play. I will not twice murder them by forgetting once and forever. Instead, I will enter the humbling darkness, of crushed Mosques and Hospitals, once alive with prayer and healing. Instead, I will walk this Riviera of blood, amongst the stillness of crushed concrete, where no corn, but steel rods poke through. I will not blaspheme this open tomb with elegies of innocence and youth. No, never will I mourn, instead, I will pray they are received into Heaven and recite: ‘This Day, the Garden dwellers will be busy in their joyousness. You and your family will recline on couches; in shade and coolness. You will have fruits and whatever You request in abundance. The Ever Compassionate will greet you with a salutation of peace.’ * This is the least I can do for Gaza’s daughter, deep with the first dead, dressed by her only friend, the dark grief of her mother, unknown by the unmourning Mediterranean and River Jordan. After the first death, there is no other. * adapted Ya Sin Sura from the Qur’an translated by Shawkat M. Toorawa
Photograph, ‘The Mysteries. The Dove.’
Trapani Italy 1989, by Letizia Battaglia
(1935 - 2022)
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This, poetic fury stands alongside Omar El Akkad's prose (One day, Everyone will have Always been Against this). Both, rightly, agonising.