Sunday poetry

What I Will


I will not
dance to your war
drum. I will
not lend my soul nor
my bones to your war
drum. I will 
not dance to your
beating. I know that beat. 
It is lifeless. I know
intimately that skin
you are hitting. It
was alive once
hunted stolen
stretched. I will 
not dance to your drummed
up war. I will not pop
spin beak for you. I
will not hate for you or 
even hate you. I will 
not kill for you. Especially
I will not die
for you. I will not mourn
the dead with murder nor
suicide. I will not side
with you nor dance to bombs
because everyone else is
dancing. Everyone can be
wrong. Life is a right not 
collateral or casual. I
will not forget where 
I come from. I
will craft my own drum. Gather my beloved
near and our chanting
will be dancing. Our 
humming will be drumming. I
will not be played. I 
will not lend my name
nor my rhythm to your
beat. I will dance
and resist and dance and
persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than
death. Your war drum ain’t 
louder than this breath.


~ Suheir Hammad