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Letter for The Sleeper of the Olive tide Letter for The Sleeper of the Olive tide
by Gordana Mudri
2015-08-24 11:02:52
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Letter for The Sleeper of the Olive tide

        It's coming. Haste unstoppable from the shores of death, through the foaming waves to my south; illuminated by the sun.

Olive-tide.

        My shores are overrun, the tide goes on; rises through rivers and forests to the north, leaving an indelible mark.

        Waves of eyes full of fear, faces without smile and stomachs without food; in a desperate prayer, shattered on walls of mistrust.

gro01_400Are you among them?

        Cramped between weary bodies, hidden among the exhausted mothers and crying children. Filled with hatred, bitterness and revenge.

        Because of you, I look with suspicion in tearful eyes and pale faces. I'm wiping their tears and I'm rinsing their wounds, but the fear of you inflames my doubts. Have you poisoned them with your hatred? Are these the eyes of a killer? Are these the hands of evil?

            Your hidden agendas feed my horror but I want to give consolation for the fear.

My restlessness is stronger. I look back over my shoulder, I look for your eyes, eyes filled with coldness. I feel your hatred crawling on my back. These are your mothers, your sisters and your brothers and I smile to them. I want to show them that they are not alone in their misfortune.

Are you here?

The Sleeper with dreams of death...

       Please, don't wake up on these shores. 

       Don't touch my Acropolis, my Colosseum or my cave in Altamira. My heart is still crying for Palmira and feels horror for Necropolis in Giza.

       Please, don't wake up on these shores. 

       Here are my mothers, my sisters and my brothers. I am here, in the fight against fear and pain. Me, carrying my pain and my bitterness I'm not seeding hate. I don't fight with weapons. I fight with my words. Voice against injustice.

        And if you stand next to me, I will give you my hand; one more voice and we can scream for all of those deprived and expelled. Together

        And others will come...

        Hand to hand, voice thru voice...

        We will rise our voices for us, for our children, for peace. We will fight for every grain of sand in your desert and for every tree on my shore. We will return children to mothers and mothers to homes. We will return peace to weary warriors. We will return laughter and life.

        We can do it. Our voices are our weapons.

        Just, please, don't wake up on these shores.

        Bury dreams of death and feel the warmth of my words. Don't buy a place in heaven with blood, paradise is another world for another time and you are here and you are now. You can love and be loved. You're not born with hatred and rage. Nobody is. We are all born in cry but we do not have to live and die in tears.

       Open your heart and feel the truth...

       And then, open your eyes and the whole world will be your home, without fear, without doubt, without the walls of mistrust that break the waves of desperate.

       A world without olive-tide and The Sleeper in it.

 

 *********************************************************

Pismo spavaču maslinaste plime

            Dolazi. Nadire nezaustavljivo sa obala smrti, preko zapjenjenih valova , do mojeg juga okupanog suncem.

Maslinasta plima.

            Moje obale su pregažene, a plima ide dalje; penje se rijekama i šumama do sjevera, ostavlja neizbrisiv trag.

            Valovi očiju ispunjenih strahom, s licima bez osmijeha i želucima bez hrane; u očajnoj molitvi, razbijeni o bedeme nepovjerenja.

Da li si i ti među njima?

            Stiješnjen između umornih tijela, prikriven među iscrpljenim majkama i uplakanom djecom. Ispunjen mržnjom, gorčinom i osvetom.

            Zbog tebe, gledam s nepovjerenjem u uplakane oči i blijeda lica. Brišem njihove suze i ispirem njihove rane, ali strah od tebe raspiruje moje sumnje. Da li si i njih zatrovao svojom mržnjom? Da li su ovo oči ubojice? Da li su ovo ruke zla?

            Tvoje skrivene namjere hrane moj strah, a ja želim pružiti utjehu za strah.

Moje nemir je jači. Osvrćem se preko ramena; tražim tvoje oči ispunjene hladnoćom. Osjećam tvoju mržnju kako plazi uz moja leđa. A ovo su tvoje majke, tvoje sestre i tvoja braća i ja im se smiješim. Želim im pokazati da nisu sami u svojoj nevolji.

Da li si ovdje?

Spavač sa snovima smrti...

            Molim te, ne budi se na ovim obalama.

            Ne diraj moju Akropolu, moj Koloseum ni špilju u Altamiri. Moje srce još uvijek plače za Palmirom i strahuje nad Nekropolom u Gizi.

            Molim te, ne budi se na ovim obalama.

            Na njima su moje majke, moje sestre i moja braća. Ovdje sam ja, u borbi protiv straha i bola. Ja, koja nosim vlastitu bol i gorčinu, ali ne sijem mržnju. Ne borim se oružjem. Borim se riječima. Glas protiv nepravde.

            Ako staneš pored mene pružit ću ti ruku; to je jedan glas više i možemo vrištati iz sve snage za sve obespravljene i protjerane. Zajedno.

            I drugi će doći...

            Ruka do ruke, glas uz glas...

            Dići ćemo glas za nas, za našu djecu, za mir. Borit ćemo se za svako zrno pijeska u tvojoj pustinji i svako drvo na mojoj obali. Vratit ćemo djecu majkama i majke ognjištima. Vratit ćemo mir umornim ratnicima. Vratit ćemo smijeh i život.

            Mi to možemo. Glasovi su naše oružje.

            Samo, molim te, ne budi se na ovim obalama.

            Zakopaj snove smrti i osjeti toplinu mojih riječi. Ne kupuj krvlju mjesto u raju, jer raj je neki drugi svijet, a ti si ovdje i sada.  Možeš voljeti i biti voljen. Nisi rođen s mržnjom i gnjevom. Nitko nije. Svi smo mi rođeni u plaču, ali ne moramo živjeti i umrijeti u suzama.

            Otvori srce i osjeti istinu...

            I onda otvori oči i cijeli će svijet biti tvoj dom, bez straha, bez sumnje, bez bedema nepovjerenja  koji razbijaju valove očajnika.

            Svijet bez maslinaste plime i spavača u njoj.




    
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