The Roar of the Wounded

Yemeni mp

Ahmed Saif Hashed

I am filled with rejection and rebellion as long as I live. I exist and remain alive, still resisting. We will remain in this vast abyss, searching for a homeland. We will not tire or grow weary, nor will despair or despondency reach us. We will continue to nurture hope in kind souls. And even if the hyenas of despair surround us, striving to seize us, we are “stronger than death,” more capable of enduring and persevering. We possess a will forged by time. We are resilient against breaking, never losing hope, while remaining mindful of reason and wisdom.

They called me sick, and mad! Some said I am a traitor and a collaborator! Others labeled me Houthi and a sympathizer, while those who uttered such words long for the taste of milk.

To These I Say: I am the king of my own self, wherever I go; I refuse to be a slave to anyone, not even to my own self. I am not a sheep in a flock, nor a mount for the masses. I am free, the son of freedom, and in my faith and commitment, there is no master and servant. I will not be a slave sold in the market of slavery. I will not be a servant, even if a thousand prophets call for bondage, and a thousand verses urge for slavery.

When oppression demands my silence, I declare, “Silence is shame.” And when the night asks me, “Who are we?” I respond, “We are lovers of the day.” And when absence seeks to make me disappear from sight, I become even more present. When the legions of deep sleep invade me, the bells of conscience awaken me, and my spirit rises against my silence and slumber. Silence is death. I cannot die quietly, without a sound; I cannot die stifled and choked by conscience.

I refuse to be consumed by injustice, no matter how enticing it may be with abundance or treasures. The thrill of challenge prowls within me like a lion in its cage. I resist death in the prison of silence, barred by iron. I reject muffled sounds, even if they are glass drinking in the glimmers of the sun. I refuse the strangling reins of the prancing horses; I embrace them above the clouds, along with the bridle of wildness and the shackles of human enslavement, even if they were crafted from crystal and diamonds, or pulsing like stars in the vast sky, or shimmering like chandeliers and artifacts in the palaces of the wealthy.

And even if I am compelled to silence for a moment, the vastness within me is filled with noise and clamor. If I slip into myself in a moment of weakness, my conscience does not rest from a fierce battle raging deep within me, until its victory echoes throughout the corners of the horizon, reaching the thunderous heights of the sky.

In the oppressive darkness, my conscience was my star, and in the depths of the ocean, it was my compass. My conscience comes first, before the self, before everyone, even if I am among them. My conscience finds cowardly silence intolerable in the face of overwhelming tyranny—a world teeming with bitterness and pain, where savagery penetrates me each day.

I began as a rebel and have lived, and still do, in that spirit, while my years wither towards their end. Perhaps reality dictates patience, bending to the storm until it passes. Perhaps I will calm for a brief moment, or seize a respite from this long struggle, only to return and continue what I have started. I will not surrender to a tyrant who wishes to tame me like a sheep, nor to an oppressor who rides me like a docile beast. I continue to resist with awareness, teeth clenched, and hands ready.

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Raise your voice into the open air, for silence is inhabited by graves. Silence is death. Do not submit to a tyrant or an oppressor. And if fate has decreed that you traverse the prison enclosed by iron, let your roar echo across the horizon, and declare that you are free, the son of freedom. Awaken the people with a roar that cannot be denied. Unleash your resounding and formidable voice. Assert your existence and your protest, and let the world know that you are still alive, that you have not died. You remain a revolutionary, resisting.

Drink water, pure or flavored as you wish. Love life, seasoned with the taste of rebellion and struggle. Crown your achievements with excellence, and savor your uniqueness. Liberate the heights of awareness from the depths of darkness—from the assassination of childhood in its tender years. Rebel against the ready-made recipes of ignorance in universities, mosques, schools, and brainwashing sessions.

Rebel against the grand illusion, so you do not live as a captive, subdued and humiliated. If you find the truth clear, seize it as a drowning man would grasp a lifeline. Hold on with both hands. Bite down with your teeth and your very essence. Stand tall like the sky and do not bow to a tyrant. Do not accept humiliation, even if it leads you to the thrones of Rome and Persia. Do not accept a livelihood tainted by dishonor. Resist those who seek to degrade you or erase your existence from the world.

Do not be deceived. Do not bargain. Do not relinquish your rights. Do not become accustomed to injustice, even if it is filled with a paradise of honey and pistachios. Rebel in your sunrise and your sunset. Rebel even if you are living the last moments of your life or your decline. Rebel against this absurdity at all times.

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