The picture which speaks a thousand and one words
with out even seeing the mouths of the speakers
The picture which captures humanity in its nudity and humanity veiled
The picture which shows the hands of a healer wearing white gloves
Notice the gloves which seem to bear holes on the top
as if that of Jesus’s hands when off the cross
Is this Mary in disguise veiled in the Eastern region of the world
taking her babe off the pedestal of lies
What are the words depicting permanence on the young man’s arm
The world that can not be seen through the dark veil, nor through the closed eyes
Is it the closed eyes of the government or the people that this picture personifies
Although two human beings in harmony holding the moment; I see nothing but coldness
Is it the cold of the blood that no longer may flow
Or is it the cold of religion and government talking to each other with no feelings
What is the purpose of life if only taken for no reason
Lets remember the golden rule to treat your neighbors as you would want to be treated
lets remember the golden rule not to talk about politics or religion
The picture which speaks of a thousand and one mothers crying for their dead sons
The picture which captures love and essence of life
The picture which hides the truth of the realities inside
Once again I turn the page not to remember the picture
which has taken my heart beat by surprise
The pages of life turn but some pictures will always remain
Bloodless wounds that can not be seen but only heard
* Photo taken by Samuel Aranda of Spain. The picture shows a woman holding a wounded relative inside a mosque which was used as field hospital by demonstrators against the rule of President Ali Abdullah Saleh in Sanaa Yemen on 15 October 2011. The photographer was on assignment for The New York Times and is represented by Corbis Images. Photo courtesy www.worldpressphoto.org
Wow. What a powerful image which you so eloquently translated in your insightful words. I am glad you are here to remind me of the realities of the world and what they truly mean. I love the gentle soulful way you have handled and laid bare this brutal reality. Your last line haunts me ” Bloodless wounds that can not be seen but only heart.” Wow. The imagery is so powerful in its silence. Wow.
Powerful picture, powerful times we are going through.Interesting thing is that the last word is heard… but I love that you have written heart… it gives the blood life. The veiled realities unveiled.
The lovely aesthetics of the page were reflected in the poem. The words amplified the silent scream of the photograph, revealing the fragile nakedness of human emotion, speaking of a grief that we have created no words for.
The interweaving of references to religion (the picture at once appeared to me as being in the tradition of Christian Marian art, a version of Pietà) with the political troubles of the day creates a powerful piece that is moving. Yet there is a part of me that wishes to deny the realities expressed in the picture and poem. I wish to deny that the world moves in cycles – that that image, that intensity of grief, the malice that produces such agony, still exists, millennia on.
I have heard it said, more than once that Art is not easy. Art makes you think – it chafes at the edges of your ideals, it challenges you, constantly causing you to reaffirm or reject previously held notions. I do not profess to know a lot about art – I think that even those who say they do are still learning, but this picture moves me. It condenses and distils so much about the beautiful and the dark twisted horror of life.
The Romans called their prophets poets because they spoke in verse. In this poem you elucidate the truth of the picture. Stripping away layer after layer to reveal the mystery of paradoxical love.
Yes, the quiet scream. The religious who believe in no god. You have taken the imagery and put it into words beautifully. The imagery of the picture and the imagery of my words. If only worthy of the way Romans depicted poets and the way you set the stage for the images to become words and to sit on any shoulder and to touch any heart. The heart of the cold blooded and the heart of the mother holding child. Thank you for looking into the picture and into the words and giving them yet another life with your own words and voice.