"I have shed the past … and buried it without mourning"

 "I have shed the past … and buried it without mourning"

Milad Korkis 

I am no longer that lover who kisses the dust of his nation’s memory each morning,

nor the one who chases the revival of dead letters in books no one reads.

I have shed the robe of a painful past,

left its corpse behind—no flower, no tombstone, no tear.

I didn’t even look back to see if they buried it properly,

because I no longer care whether they held a funeral…

or just mourned their illusions.

I’m done trying to resuscitate what died long ago.

A people who feast on defeat every morning will not rise again.

No cry from lovers or prophets will move those

who sold their ears to the echo of the herd

and their minds to recycled slogans.

We gave them years of excuses and countless chances,

searched for a candle within their darkness,

tried to embrace the remnants of light in their eyes—

but they chose the darkness,

celebrated stagnation,

and crucified anyone who dared to stand above the mud.

They are grateful in public…

but intolerant of any voice of truth.

They treat words of freedom like a coffee server treats idle chatter—

he wipes the table clean and walks away.

They chant about values they don’t believe in,

sing freedom with mouths suffocating on silence.

So why exhaust myself?

Why burden my heart with the weight of what cannot be saved?

I left the details, with all their filth and deceit,

to those who spent decades engraving the illusion of “stability”

onto the cracked walls of a rotting system.

Stability built on fear, walls made of paper.

I left it to those who loved power more than people,

and to those who turned weakness into identity.

Do not open the pages of pain before me—

not here, not anywhere else.

I am not willing to dig up the bones of yesterday again.

This people now cares for nothing but their own failure.

They feed on defeat, raise their children on it,

and craft an identity from ruins.

They attack the successful because they reflect their own shortcomings.

They support failure because it’s familiar.

They sabotage every lifeline before it reaches the shore.

They attack anyone who flies outside the flock of their failure,

because they know full well—

whoever flies away sees the truth from above,

sees how they’ve deceived their people for decades,

moving from failure to failure,

turning lies into doctrine,

and slogans into dogma.

Don’t blame the outsider—

not when you yourselves choked the ones who gave,

who supported, opened doors, gave their hearts and homes and dreams.

Do not accuse those who chose to escape,

blame those who taught you how to surrender.

They made you a herd,

fed you on negativity,

and taught you to shut your mouths.

Silence became law,

failure a virtue,

and disgrace—your badge of honor.

Stop boasting.

Stop exploiting the memory of martyrs

who died hundreds of years ago.

You’ve done nothing for them but misuse their names,

split them between Assyrian, Syriac, Chaldean—

as if blood can be divided by terminology.

As the saying goes: "The pot is lost."

And with it… the cause.

My final word:

You lost the people—and you know it.

Yet you continue,

because you enjoy the applause of morally bankrupt beasts,

you delight in the praise of the vile,

and lend your ears only to the amplified mouths

of those too corrupt to hear the voice of truth.

#MXR