This poem is written in response to the ongoing shrinking of spaces for polyphonous views in the literary scene. Many spaces have a predetermined political line and promote only one side of any conversation. As a result, literary spaces have degenerated into war zones. In many cases, the genuine voices for peace and democracy are demoted. The latest round of conflicts between Palestine and Israel have worsened this trend.
Echo Chamber
We cover the walls
with millions of tiny mirrors—
No wood to absorb melodies
temper them with growth
and hand them back richer—
Shiny surfaces ad-infinitum—
immortalize small gods
gaudier than doubts—
We don’t want to hear you—
We want you to hear us—
Literature is our party—
not yours—
The deluded stray
from the path of righteous
politics
We care not for peace
but for victory
and the war goes on
