ON ARTISTIC FREEDOM IN THE NATIONAL ERA

Because I am not a state, I have no
secure borders, or an army guarding
its soldiers’ lives night and day.  And
there is no colored line drawn by a dusty
general in the margins of his victory.
As I am not a legislative council,
a dubious parliament, wrongly called
a house of representatives. As I am not
a son of the chosen people, nor am I
an Arab mukhtar.  No one will falsely
accuse me of being, supposedly,
a fatherless anarchist who spits into the
well around which the people feast
on their holidays. Rejoicing at their
patriarchs’ tombs.  Because I am not
a fatalist, or a member of an underground
that builds churches, mosques and synagogues
in the hearts of children. Who will no doubt die
for the sake of the Holy Name in Heaven.
Because I am no excavation contractor or earth
merchant, not a sculptor of tombstones polishing
memorials for the greater glory of the dead.
Because I have no government, with or
without a head, and there is no chairman
sitting on my head. I can, under such
extenuating circumstances, sometimes
allow myself to be human,
a bit free.

ON ARTISTIC FREEDOM IN THE NATIONAL ERA