Protests in Cairo that led to Mubarak's resignation in 2011.‘On Hearing of Hosni Mubarak’s Death, 25 February 2020’ by Kevin Blankinship The Society February 26, 2020 Culture, Poetry 2 Comments The days we choked on rage and fed on tears, that lit my guts with deep and purple flame— but when they go, I wish they still were here. Standing in line for bread, I feel it sheer: the hunger, without eating, eats my frame. Days that choked my rage and fed with tears. Cops hid on every corner spit and peer, and dance you off to prison—so they dream. But when they go, I wish they still were here. Topple the tower, built for thirty years! Take to the streets and get what you can claim! The days we choked in rage and fed our tears. And as for friends we lost to gun and spear, drink up their rich, full memory unashamed. Now they’re gone, and I wish they still were here, for hunger, prison, cops—all still appear in emperor’s new clothing and new name. So many days of choked rage and tears. And when they go, I wish they still were here. Kevin Blankinship is a professor of Arabic at Brigham Young University. His original poetry is out or will appear at Gingerbread House, The Ekphrastic Review, Poetica Review, and Lighten Up Online, and he has written for general-interest venues like The Atlantic, The Los Angeles Review of Books, The Times Literary Supplement, The Millions, and more. He lives in Utah. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who harasses or disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comment or comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 2 Responses James A. Tweedie February 27, 2020 Kevin, This is an intricate and well-wrought villanelle that (if I read it correctly) bounces back and forth with sardonic irony between what is gained and what is lost through revolutionary social/political upheavals. I am reminded of G.K. Chesterton’s conversation with a French peasant following the last in a series of 19th century revolutionary government overthrows. Chesterton asked: “Do you feel better off or worse off for the change?” “Revolution?” the peasant replied. “It is a word that means to turn like a wheel until it brings you back to the place where you started.” There was definitely something lost and something gained from the various manifestations of the Arab Spring. Egypt, it seems to me, came through it less worse off from it than a number of other countries. A very sobering, provocative poem, tinged with suffering, heroic sacrifice, “people power” vs “realpolitik,” and, in the end, far too many hopes and dreams left unrealized. Reply Kevin Blankinship February 27, 2020 Thank you for the kind words, James. The Chesterton quote is fine food for thought (and yes, a villanelle!). Given my work, I’m painfully aware of this buyer’s remorse among people in the region. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.