Dedicated to Abeer Qassim Hamza al-Janabi

Wikipedia - The Mahmudiyah killings and gang-rape of a 14-year-old girl by U.S. troops occurred on March 12, 2006, in a house to the southwest of Yusufiyah, a village to the west of the town of Al-Mahmudiyah, Iraq. Five United States Army soldiers of the 502nd Infantry Regiment were charged with the crimes: Sgt. Paul E. Cortez, Spc. James P. Barker, Pfc. Jesse V. Spielman, Pfc. Brian L. Howard and Pfc. Steven D. Green (whom the army discharged before the crime's discovery). Abeer Qasim Hamza, 14, was raped and murdered, after her family was murdered: her mother, Fakhriyah Taha Muhsin, 34; father, Qasim Hamza Raheem, 45; and six-year-old sister Hadeel Qasim Hamza. As of September 2009, Spielman and Green have been convicted and three others have pled guilty.

For Abeer

Fables are dip into dust,
by violence that waste diaries
A porcelein doll fall down
and a foot stomp the dignity, the ingenuity, the hope.
The door opens with anger
and I feel your fear on my skin.
Your silence screams start to touch,
the tears drain away into the pain
and the violence consumes, oxidize the spirit.
Out the quiet, betwen the walls and the hell.
The whisky smell on the clothes, in the sighs.
Feel the filthy sex's smell,
the legs are tired...opened and trembled,
outraged by a unknown pleasure.
The air overtops bodies without life,
enter undisturbed, circled the madness
and don't stop to persecute, to search.
Remain the silence...on that bed that pick up a body.
The curious hands goes away,
the eyes are open wide on the ceiling are exthingued,
in the order the smell sharp of their skins
and a weapon aimed against your face.
The shoot...
the silence...
the flames...
In Mahmoudiya we can't breathe no more
we can't sleep no more,
we can't live no more.

Per Abeer

Le favole sono sommerse dalla polvere,
dalla violenza che consuma i diari.
Una bambola di porcellana precipita
ed un piede ne calpesta la dignità, l’ingenuità, la speranza.
La porta si spalanca con rabbia
e sento la tua paura sulla mia pelle.
Iniziano a toccare tre le urla silenziose,
le lacrime si prosciugano nel dolore
e la violenza consuma, corrode lo spirito.
Fuori la calma, tra le mura l’inferno.
L’odore di whisky sui vestiti, nei sospiri.
Senti il sudicio odore del sesso,
le gambe sono stanche … aperte e tremanti,
seviziate da un piacere sconosciuto.
L’aria sovrasta corpi senza vita,
entra indisturbata, circonda la follia
e non smette di tormentare, di cercare.
Resta il silenzio … su quel letto che raccoglie un corpo.
Le mani curiose si allontanano,
gli occhi spalancati sul soffitto sono spenti,
nell’intimo l’odore pungente della loro pelle
e un’arma puntata contro il tuo viso.
Lo sparo …
il silenzio …
le fiamme …
A Mahmoudiya non si respira più,
non si dorme più,
non si vive più.

Secondo Premio IV Edizione Concorso Nazionale Letterario “Domenico Indellicati” “Echi e Sospiri d’Amore in Valle D’Itria” (11/05/2008)