Skip to main content

Steed Sorrow

In her eyes I saw pain, I saw the feeling of helplessness that I have seen too many times before. In her eyes were wails and screams, the image of a broken soul. She stood so tall yet so frail like the slightest breeze of air could shatter her to pieces. Her bloody body standing above her little one with nothing to do but to accept the pain and to dwell in the sorrow. 

Wars are never easy and the losses are never predictable, the only thing guaranteed is pain. Over 1800 days have passed and the only thing that has been stable is the pain. The only constant in our lives is pain. These horses were more than just animals to us Yemenis, these Arabian horses resembled both nobility and courage which are the two components Yemenis are made of. In the past fifty years Yemenis were portrayed and conveyed as savage illiterates who have no morals, all of which are false allegations. In the past five years I have got to know my people because nothing brings people closer together than common cause fed by pain. Yemenis will give you their last piece of bread and go to bed on an empty stomach to make you feel at home. Yemenis will open their homes to a person in need without a second thought. Yemenis are selfless and noble, they do not compensate with wrongdoings and they do not break their word. 

These horses show us that pain is felt in nature as a whole that we are all the same, we all share the pain. When a country is in crisis the land and sky are in crisis, the living creatures are in crisis. These horses have been through a lot they have been scared and lonely. They have experienced loss the same way the rest of the people have. These horses are more than just an additional number of casualties, these horses were a part of us and a part of you.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Scene in Yemen; January 2024

  "The past is a place of reference not a place of residence" this is a sentence I have to constantly remind myself. It is okay to look back to ponder then proceed, it is life nothing more, as tough and as complicated as it can get. That being said; I never choose to revisit the past, I cannot decide whether it is due to fear or rather being past the past. I choose to deem it as acceptance, that it is a chapter of history I can learn from but should never mourn upon, although I usually choose the route of not looking back. January 5th 2024, Friday, was one of those extremely rare days that I sensed I was sent through a time capsule, 8 years back, early 2015 to be exact. As I heard the sound of the war-crafts bolting through the serene blue sky of Sanaa, I was triggered. My first reaction was to run holding my head down, waiting for my home to come crumbing down to the ground. My rapid processing mechanism was concluding that Saudi is back at bombarding us, in sequence with th...

The Power of a Decade

I remember my excitement for 2010 I had just turned 11 and the world seemed to be my oyster, I had a whole plan set out for myself. I was a hardheaded child with a plan, a well thought of plan, I was going to graduate high school at 17 and start university directly after, as a law student of course, and Harvard was the obvious choice. Nothing seemed too far, nothing seemed unreachable, every dream I had was valid, every dream was a possibility. It is hard to reminisce the past, how all that energy is long gone, I blame this war for it.  In February of 2015, I was sixteen preparing for my AS-Levels to elevate my chance of getting into a league school, my life revolved around books and studying, I would stay put for six hours straight without budging studying maths day in, day out. I missed out on so much all for an exam I never took because the moment this aggression began all hell broke loose, everything was cancelled and I was left to panic and cry that my life plan wou...

Eight years later; the story goes on

The silence is frightening, like the calm before the storm. I am so used to their sounds, their thunders, now all I hear are my thoughts. As I wait for the silence to pass, this calm is now the unknown. I hear the airplanes passing and I can't help but shiver reminiscing when it all started eight years ago, when all I knew was silence that was cut off, always in a sudden, to hear a speeding warcraft above my head about to take away the lives of tens of people at once in a matter of seconds. How can I justify or explain to myself that these are not war crafts these are airplanes, the airplanes that used to sound so natural to me. The airplane that little children would wave at just eight years ago, those same children are teenagers now, and the children today would never wave at an airplane because it never is an airplane, it is always a hovering, killing machine about to take out little kids just like them. Times change and although there is a truce there is no serenity, just the f...