Among your ancient ten thousand ruins drift the souls of our teachers.
Underneath your soil, the blood of countless of your children over the ages nourishes your lush oases.
Within the waters of your rivers scatter the ashes of your being with each invader.
Ur, birthplace of Abraham, father of all three religions that defiled you, looks on in shame.
Babylon, seat of Hammurabi, Nebuchaznessar, and Alexander the Great, weeps from the banks of the Euphrates.
The hands that built the Tower of Babel, the Hanging Gardens, and the Gate of Ishtar look on in disbelief at man�s eagerness to destroy you in a flash. How can countless years of labor be erased in a moment of greed and blasphemy?
Your God, Enlil, from the ghosts of the towers of Nippur, looks helplessly upon you as your children are torn to pieces.
Sennacherib and Ashurbanipal, mighty Assyrian kings of Nineveh, choke as your books burn to ashes. Jonah bows down in grief from the ruins of its courtyards as he witnesses the legacy of his progeny.
Ctesiphon, architectural wonder of the ancient world, moans in agony since the war of 1991. The healing touches of archaeologists cannot save it in 2003.
Samarra, old capital of Iraq, your religious ruins and tombs stand witness to the trespassing of men with shallow goals. Your ancient brick bridge has heard and felt the trampling of feet bent upon destruction.
Mosul, home of the brave and proud, burial place of beloved Muslim saints and site of earliest Christian monasteries, you languish on the Tigris like a carefree child on a spring morning. You call to the faithful and they seek you, for you are the cord that ties them to the source.
Karbala, Najaf, Kadhumain, holy cities of the descendents of �Ali, how will you fare under that might? Karbala, ancient battleground among whose sands the blood of the innocent of the house of Hussein, the peaceful, and the faithful was shed, it is happening again.
Baghdad, Gift of God, ancient city, city of wonders, home to five million agonizing souls, center of learning, keeper of historic archives and old religious books, window to the ancient world, builder of museums, yours is a sad and desperate tale indeed.
The eyes of the infidels have been envious of your wealth and history. The black hearts of power hungry men have defiled you. Followers of a false god have tried to destroy you so they can rebuild you in his gruesome image.
Baghdad, capital of the Abbasid Dynasty and world�s center of education for five hundred years. Your Golden Age has graduated countless ancient philosophers, physicians, mathematicians, astronomers, and religious scholars. Since the eighth century, museums, libraries, hospitals, and mosques have been built within your walls.
Does anyone ask about Bayt al-Hikmah, the House of Wisdom, which attracted scholars from around the world from the ninth to the thirteenth centuries? Does anyone care that students and teachers worked together inside your rooms and courtyards to translate Greek manuscripts, preserving them for all time? Aristotle, Plato, Hippocrates, Euclid, and Pythagoras would have been thankful and proud. You would think the Western world would be thankful and proud. I guess they are thankful today.
Al-Khawarizmi, the father of Algebra and the algorithm should be proud. But, would he be when he knows what his equations are used for?
Baghdad, Gift of God, city of wisdom, the Mongols laid waste to you until both your rivers ran red with the blood of one hundred thousand citizens and scholars.
Baghdad, Gift of God, city of wisdom, many of your libraries, irrigation canals, and great historical treasures were looted and forever ruined by the Mongols.
Baghdad, Gift of God, city of wisdom, both your rivers are running red with blood and many of your libraries, plants, hospitals, and historical and intellectual treasures are being looted and burned once more. The Mongols are long gone, but their legacy remains.
Iraq, cradle of civilization, birthplace of the prophets, center of learning, we lament you. You have paid a dear price because of the greed of those who seek to exploit you and erase your history.
Iraq, beloved of all time, your rulers and your invaders have betrayed you and terrorized your children.
Once more, you are ripped from the source of your being and from your history because humanity has failed you. Your tormentors envy you and your history. They trample your ancient lands because they have lost touch with their own source.
Armageddon is to begin with you to fulfill the vengeful prophecies of a vengeful god. How can the greatest power on Earth teach democracy and freedom using violence as the tool? How can the largest military in the world conquer the hearts of any people? It has never happened and it will never happen.
Iraq, the eyes of the world are upon you to rise from the ashes once more, proud and resilient. Past invaders could not contain you. Will you let this one succeed?
Iraq, we hear the scream of every woman and every child whose life is stolen in the name of greed and apathy. We hear the moans of every soldier who dies in battle with no one to sing his praises. Your soldiers do not get a moment of fame on CNN.
Your identity is being erased. Your heritage is deliberately being yanked from you to prevent you from ever standing tall.
Iraq, our hearts and prayers are with you and your people. Your suffering is our suffering. Every one of your children that has been murdered to liberate you is a nail in your liberators� coffin.
War mongers may laugh at your suffering. Psychopaths may cheer the death of your children. Bible thumpers may justify your murder and suffering. Guilt-ridden cowards may try to forget you. But I promise you, there are many more who will not.
Marilyn Farhat
15 April 2003