CALL Network | Text | UN: alnnahs

[alkhimia2i]

[Being holed up in a safehouse as she is, Ana is a little short on stimulating conversation. As much as she might want to resist engaging in this strange magical cellphone, she doesn't hold out for too long. After all, from what she can tell, these people have no idea who she is.

What she posts comes in two pieces, the first a series of lines in Arabic text followed by a helpful translation in English. The second piece is commentary.]

ﺃﺩﻣﻨﺖ ﺍﺣﺰﺍﻧﻲ
ﻓﺼﺮﺕ ﺍﺧﺎﻑ ﺍﻥ ﻻ ﺍﺣﺰﻧﺎ
ﻭﻃﻌﻨﺖ ﺁﻻﻓﺎ ﻣﻦ ﺍﻟﻤﺮﺍﺕ
ﺣﺘﻰ ﺻﺎﺭ ﻳﻮﺟﻌﻨﻲ ﺑﺎﻥ ﻻ ﺍﻃﻌﻨﺎ
ﻭﻟﻌﻨﺖ ﻓﻲ ﻛﻞ ﺍﻟﻠﻐﺎﺕ
ﺣﺘﻰ ﺻﺎﺭ ﻳﻘﻠﻘﻨﻲ ﺑﺎﻥ ﻻ ﺍﻟﻌﻨﺎ
ﻭﻟﻘﺪ ﺗﺸﺎﺑﻬﺖ ﻛﻞ ﺍﻟﺒﻼﺩ
ﻓﻼ ﺍﺭﻯ ﻧﻔﺴﻲ ﻫﻨﺎﻙ، ﻭﻻ ﺍﺭﻯ ﻧﻔﺴﻲ ﻫﻨﺎ

I was addicted to my sorrows,
Until I became scared of not being sorrowful.
And I was stabbed thousands of times,
Until it felt painful not to be stabbed.
And I was cursed in all the languages,
Until I became nervous of not being cursed.
And all the countries seemed the same,
in that I neither see myself there, nor do I see myself here.


I came across this while reading, so I thought I might share it. No particular reason, except than I found it to be moving. I wouldn't mind hearing your opinions.

Comments

[caduceusoncall]

The poem certainly invokes a feeling that I think many people are familiar with at one time or another in their life. The word "admission" comes to mind.

I think a lot of people get so lost in their suffering that they forget, or perhaps dismiss, the fact that there is anything BUT suffering. It is a very easy trap to fall into when hurt becomes a normal or "default" setting.

It is important to remember though that it is never too late to seek help for your wounds, physical or psychological. Everybody deserves a chance to heal and grow from their pain, no matter when they choose to begin doing so.

[alkhimia2i]

[Oh, that username... "Mercy". It sounds a lot like her, and there's no reason for Ana to think that it wouldn't be her. It takes her a while to answer back, when she decides that she can't simply not answer at all.]

I can see what you mean, and I think we agree. Everyone deserves a chance to heal.

But the words could also invoke a fear of change. We tend to favor our habits, good or bad. When sorrow and pain have become familiar, it can be difficult to reach out for something new. Anything other than what we're used to can feel wrong. A mistake, even.

[caduceusoncall]

[Angela stares at the words in front of her. She recalls painful things and feels an echo of emotions she's worked hard to abandon. Part of her wants to put her CALL device down and do something else. Another part of her refuses to let it go.]

Difficult, yes, but very necessary. If you allow your sorrow to consume you it will cost you dearly. Getting so lost in your own mind that you are afraid to leave it doesn't just hurt you, it hurts the people that care about you.

It is worth mentioning that mistakes can be explained and ultimately forgiven, but they also need to be corrected. There is certainly no shame in not being able to recover or bounce back immediately, so long as you eventually try. Preferably until you succeed.

[alkhimia2i]

[For a moment, Ana is struck with the fleeting paranoia that Mercy knows who she's speaking too. The conversation is the kind of coincidence that feels a hair too coincidental... but perhaps that's only her guilty conscience talking. Her gaze passes over the words 'it hurts the people that care about you', and her single eye flicks to the holo device that's never very far from her.]

That is a commendable mindset, if you have the strength for it. I think we can both hope that everyone would have that strength, but reality tends to be less than we dream. People falter, even when we don't want them to.

un: courtblanche

[cosmetological]

Well, that's certainly a debut for the network.

Interesting.

[ Did the poem cut far too close for him? Yes. Is he ever going to say that? Over his goddamn dead body. ]

[alkhimia2i]

What is a network for, if not for sharing?

[cosmetological]

Well,if you're going to be all reasonable like that. What can I do?

Big reader?

[alkhimia2i]

It's a hobby I've picked up recently. It might be that I have too much time on my hands. The consequence of spending too many of my years with no hobbies at all.

Do you read as well? Or something else? I'm afraid I don't know anything about the other users on this network.

un: highnoon

[jinglejangle]

Words like that seem awfully fancy to share for no reason.

[no he is not suspicious why would you think that]

[alkhimia2i]

[...These usernames are going to put her in the early grave she belongs in, to be honest. If this is anyone but Jesse McCree, she'll eat her hat.]

Isn't their fanciness reason enough?

[jinglejangle]

[What, this is a totally subtle name.]

Maybe if you're some sorta pretentious joker who likes to feel good about how smart you are, but most folks I've ever known wouldn't do shit like this without a good reason.

[Not that, currently, he assumes he actually knows this person. They could just be someone entirely random he's pestering for no good reason.]

[caduceusoncall]

["Highnoon". Angela knows immediately who this user is. She's torn between excitement - it's been so long! - and anger at how immature he still is. She settles on scolding him now and greeting him later.]

Jesse McCree, unless you are looking to interrogate and "dispense justice" to the artistically minded people on this network, I would suggest watching your words.

It is a poem and a discussion about the poem, there is absolutely no reason for this vitriol.

[alkhimia2i]

Fair enough. You've found me out.

Now my underhanded plot to force anonymous strangers into discussing fine literature will be foiled. Shall I hold my hands up in surrender?

[She just barely refrains from typing "sheriff" at the end of her message.]

un: troubadourCatalyst

[thygospelevity]

[Behind the screen he reads and his breath his caught. His chin sinks slow into his hands and he sighs, quite happily.]

A true connoisseur plucks the sweetest fruit of the most withered mother fuckin growths. You have chosen a passage of great beauty. It seems to remind but of what I cannot name.

In gratitude, allow a fresh pimp ryda to exchange.

If the flesh of the holy is named exalted
what then is called the blood on the blade?
If the march of life is the greatest gift
What then is the rest of the waiting grave?

[alkhimia2i]

[She's not sure that she knows this username. It's not immediately apparent who might be on the other side, unlike some of the ones she's already spoken to. And the response... Isn't really like anything she remembers. But she's still a little wary.]

I appreciate such kind words from a fresh pimp ryda.

Those are deep questions that your verse asks. Do you have an answer for them?

[thygospelevity]

[Alnnahs echoed him! They must be a true ninja! For this, he is delighted, but also because he can show off his learnings, a thing of great pride with him.]

Honk honk! :oD

It could be mother fuckin proclaimed, an answer I do hold
The verse I speak moves with the Messiahs
A being of one but two all the same
For you see, the blood is as holy on the honored dagger, as the dagger is treacherous, for there would be no need to protect the flesh were there no threat upon it
Life's march is full the fuck up with beauty and wonder, but as death ends it, it cannot exist without death at the end
Thusly, it must be deemed that though the dagger gleams cruelly
Though death begets mother fuckin rot
There is beauty in it's shine
There is a gentle salvation in death
These two are things we should treasure, for each has much to teach
:o)

Much of the beauty of poetry lies in that it may have multiple meaning, a color shifting in the light merely by the direction from which it is beheld.
Would you mother fuckin agree?

[alkhimia2i]

[That's certainly a unique way of speaking... And it might put her off if not for the cheerfulness and enthusiasm that she reads in his words. He clearly doesn't mean any harm by it, and she's heard worse during her service years, to be honest. She lets it slide.]

I do agree. The best poems have many meanings. They make you think from new perspectives. Like yours.

I used to think no one liked death. The young admire the power that comes with it. The old accept its finality. But no one wants life to end. It's a necessity at the best of times, to keep those we care about safe.

But you're right. Without death, life wouldn't be so precious. We wouldn't want to protect it with our own.

un: wardenka

[boundinblood]

"Moving" is right. It's so easy to be in pain for so long, an offer of respite seems suspicious.

It reminds me strongly of people I know, and the person I once was. I know I'm not the only one.

[alkhimia2i]

My apologies that you've had that experience. But you're right, it can be difficult to trust when you've already set your expectations.

Are there other here like that?

[boundinblood]

From the responses you've had already, I would say there definitely are. The people I know that I was thinking of, sadly, haven't been given a device like this.

Is that another reason for sharing this, to find other people who could say the same?

[She assumes the other can relate to it, too - after all, it seems like an odd thing to share without personal connection to it.]

[alkhimia2i]

[Another person who seems to think that the poem was a reference to herself... Well, she did set herself up for that by posting it out of the blue.]

I guess I've given that impression, haven't I? But I'm afraid not. The poem was simply something I was reading.

I can understand the sentiment behind it, though. And I have sympathy for those who have dealt with it. I just hadn't realized that it would strike a chord with so many.

un: unleashthefalcon

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Now there's a familiar language. He doesn't recognize it as well as he might if it were Dari or Pashto, definitely not enough to know what it says without the translation, but it's similar enough for him to be able to identify it. ]

I'm gonna guess you'll find a lot of people here that resonates with.

[alkhimia2i]

[Another bird name... She's a little amused, though his response itself is a little troubling. There shouldn't be so many who understand the feelings that these words portray.]

Why do you guess that?

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Whoever or whatever's behind giving out these devices, it seems to favor those who've been on kind of a rocky path.

[alkhimia2i]

I see.

At least we're in good company. Birds of a feather, you might say.