Bøker av Yahia Lababidi

Palestine is personal for writer, Yahia Lababidi. His Palestinian grandmother, Rabiha Dajani - educator, activist and social worker - was forced to flee her ancestral home in Jerusalem at gunpoint some eighty years ago. As an Arab-American, Lababidi feels deeply betrayed by the USA's blind support of Israel's genocide of Palestinians. InPalestine Wail, he reminds us that religion is not politics, Judaism is not Zionism, and to criticize the immoral, illegal actions of Israel is not antisemitism - especially since, as an Arab, Lababidi is a Semite himself. Using both poetry and prose, Lababidi reflects on how we are neither our corrupt governments nor our compromised media. Rather, we are partners in humanity, members of one human family. Not in Our Name will the unholy massacres of innocent Palestinians be committed (two-thirds of whom are women and children) nor in the false name of 'self-defense'. In turn, Lababidi reminds us that starvation as a weapon of war is both cruel and criminal, as is collective punishment. Palestine Wailinvites us to bear witness to this historical humanitarian crisis unfolding in real-time while not allowing ourselves to be deceived, intimidated or silenced. We are made aware of the basic human truths that no lasting peace can be founded upon profound injustice and that the jailor is never Free...

"Yahia Lababidi's work is characterized by a contemplative tone in line with Rumi, whom he often quotes. Lababidi is a Muslim voice for peace, celebrating the wisdom in ancient traditions and pointing out the ridiculous in the rush and cynicism of contemporary life. Drawn to the mystic tradition, he often refers to the virtues and fruits of silence, and writes that his aphorisms 'respect the wisdom of silence by disturbing it, briefly.' Perhaps an age as thoughtless and noisy as our own requires a whole book full of them."-Plough magazine

A collection of meditations for modern life from our greatest living aphorist

The flashy poets and the poets with a schtick get the big audience, but it is the quiet poets whose individual poems more often linger with me. I'd trade all of Ginsberg, say, for William Bronk's six-line poem ""After Bach,"" which derives from the cello suites the lesson that sadness ""can be in part /to accept the absence of One to say it to."" And it is Bronk whose work is called to mind for me by Yahia Lababidi's Barely There, in which ""in embracing, we let go.""'-- H. L. Hix, Author of First Fire, Then Birds

The flashy poets and the poets with a schtick get the big audience, but it is the quiet poets whose individual poems more often linger with me. I'd trade all of Ginsberg, say, for William Bronk's six-line poem ""After Bach,"" which derives from the cello suites the lesson that sadness ""can be in part /to accept the absence of One to say it to."" And it is Bronk whose work is called to mind for me by Yahia Lababidi's Barely There, in which ""in embracing, we let go.""'-- H. L. Hix, Author of First Fire, Then Birds