I Will Tell God Everything

I will tell God everything.

The world is closed. Cities embrace their souls. Birds are afraid to leave their nests. Raindrops fell heavily on the leaves of trees too languid to keep their new buds or let their flowers bloom. The sea waves grew still, having lost the bustle of ports and the chirping of seagulls, and ships wandered lost between harbors that refused them.

The World is Closed. Go Home.

Stay in your home. There is no lover to hold you to her breast. Love songs no longer echo. And the crier cries out: Stay in your homes. Leave your fathers and mothers. Do not mix with the elderly — death is near them.

The old stand bewildered, waiting for the moment of farewell without farewell. The caravans of death continue through cities that were once beautiful and now seem stricken with stupor, letting their people depart without a goodbye. A death without farewell, confused by fear.

The world forgot its tyranny and brute force, and began searching for words in a poem by a Roman philosopher: We are waves of the same sea, leaves of the same tree, flowers of the same garden.

But the echo comes from afar:

Now fear has confounded you. You fought each other, divided the spoils, stole, destroyed cities upon their people with your rockets, your planes, your exploding barrels. You occupied countries and displaced their people. Do you remember that child who lost his family under the rubble of your airstrikes? Do you remember what he said before he died? I will tell God everything. And he did.

The meaning of the poem was lost. And here is death separating fathers and mothers from their children, carrying them away in boxes without a word of farewell or a look of love.

The World Is Closed.

And he remained bewildered, waiting for mercy from the sky, having lost the power to confront what is on earth. It is fear that makes us confused, scattered, and lost. We are afraid because we have not tasted all the beauty in our lives. It is the cycle of fear that made us raise our hands — there is no power nor strength — close the windows of our homes, and store our belongings for a journey whose length and destination we do not know.

It is the time of corona: wash your hands and keep your distance.

But before you wash your hands, cleanse your minds that have lost their awareness. You walked without vision. You forgot love and made lawful death, murder, corruption, ignorance, and ruin in your lands. You killed children, widowed women, and plundered wealth.

And now you wait for mercy from heaven?

May your ill-gotten wealth and your base deeds have mercy on you. For heaven has no mercy on those who show no mercy. And heaven is for the poor, the displaced, and the oppressed — those with no shelter, whose souls glow with love and giving.

The message has arrived. Perhaps you will take heed.