To say that Mahmoud Darwish was passionate about the homeland would be a severe understatement. Dwelling in the longing for what may today be considered a mere construct of imaginations, the poet succinctly brought to print the thoughts on every disenfranchised or disheartened mind.

Darwish’s words extend far beyond the confines of the conflict from which they were born. They touched the hearts and minds of individuals of all backgrounds and beliefs. A genuine love so evident in every poetic expression propelled his work to capture the attention of millions worldwide.

To dissect the Palestinian poet’s words and achievements would be to separate the colors of a timeless painting, and I will therefore refrain from performing such disservice. Rather than taking apart the life and time of Mahmoud Darwish, I will instead take a moment to reflect on what can be taken away from his very existence.

We often honour the greatest among us only once they have passed from our plains. We celebrate them, commiserate the great loss, bid farewell and shelve them in the annals of history. To precisely trace the impacts great individuals have had on minds and lives is no easy feat, and it often takes beyond a lifetime to discover the value of one man’s dreams. Despite this, or perhaps as a result thereof, the achievements of a great few often inspire hope and courage in many. Darwish’s dreams brought light and music to an otherwise dark quagmire and his commitment to this dream was in and of itself a universal message.

As once he eulogized another great Palestinian thinker, Edward Said, today we bid farewell to Mahmoud Salim Darwish and his timeless and touchingly passionate narrative. But rather than shelve it, we will cherish it and learn it, allow it to instill within us the courage to dream, and the conviction that it is our right.

The mind of Mahmoud Darwish was home to a love that was almost expressed as a forbidden desire for the fruits of a long lost land, for freedom from displacement. We are drawn to his words because the constant sense of separation from what is natural is the heartbeat of every created piece. To Palestine he was wed, and from Palestine he was separated.

Palestine sleeps alone, for she has lost her greatest muse.

Tags: aseel barghuthi, poetry