Lilac burning

My title was inspired by a poem by the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish, “The Despair of Lilacs,” in which he strikes his sad building against the reality of the Arab nation and its political retreat until it reaches despair over its broken stagnation and the state of collective slippage and racing to the bottom of the gutter, despite his return before the completion of the poem and throwing a seed of hope For a new resurrection from the ashes of disunity and diaspora... The process of using the contradictory statement (oxymoron) - and the term was mentioned in Nabil Tannous's book "Tracking the Butterfly ... A Study in Mahmoud Darwish's Poetry" 2019 - which was summed up in the title of the poem "The Despair of Lilacs", was Sufficient to shed light and capable of diagnosing and reading the hopeless reality of the nation, and I see that this graphic marriage that Darwish resolved between two contradictions (negative and positive) and combined them in one graphic linguistic template "Lilac Despair" has added a new understanding and given a more in-depth reading of the Arab situation and its circumstances.

In fact, after a careful and willing reading of the poem, I was struck by the idea of writing this article “The Burning of Lilacs” in an attempt to highlight another meaning and generate a new understanding for the contradictory, given that the part is of the whole and that the whole works and interacts with the activity of the part, that is, if the part is effective, and the possibility of capturing keys Moving the "whole" and directing it to the goals and objectives of the part.

I write “the burning of the lilac” like a candle that breathes its breath at the end of the long night of chains, perhaps a knight of ancient memories will lead him astray, and he will walk the mountains of the forgotten so that he will see their scarce wilting and raise his voice. Patience has returned from the arrows they throw in the air of sterile hope, and what remains of their burning is a burning that warms the ashes of their souls, as if the cry of "Darwish" to the deaf passers-by swaying between the blacksmith's hammers in the market of reproduction of contradictory concepts and their opposition increased their deafness.

Darwish saw us through the eyes of his poem, and we were planting the lilac flower from the holes of our cells in the garden of our dreams, on the day the moon was split, and when the stars shed tears for our youthful spirit, and he saw us watering our nights with sweat, joy, and sorrow, with an Arabic language and a Canaanite dialect so that we could live with it and that it would live in us. Its lilies we sleep under it burning in each other like a tired phoenix of a thousand years we sleep under its shadows burning in each other for nothing but perhaps we will be resurrected from our ashes again and the tribes of the tired of the people of the revolution have been "decimated" and other tribes have risen from the ashes of yesterday so that The feather of a phoenix flies with our souls and we fly With its wings from our yesterday to our eternal tomorrow, after the innocent tribes of our people have transmitted the song of mating pigeons with Hadil "Darwish" while he plays his miserable flute on the strings of our wishes (the captives) and says
"Listen to my body, death has fruit
And life has a life that you don't renew
Except on a body.. that listens to a body
And finally: we must have an innocent, healthy body on which we support our tired bodies from the burden of chains and years, and we must burn between the whole and the part, not for nothing, but to be freed from our burdens!

We must re-register our names in the newspapers of our tribes so that we can call them today and they will come back to us tomorrow.