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Moadad launches her cry at the dark life, and repeats in her texts the laughter stolen from the throat of the single woman. The oppressed have only one dream, in which they see their laughter crushed by the wheel of time and the ferocity of man. Poetry can do that, it can break the deadlock within the human mind, raise legitimate questions about life in it, and a tree grows in it, expressing a seed buried in the ground for a long time. It is a contemplative moment to see the greenery again, in the darkness of the burning objects that surround us. The antagonist of the harsh taste for us to taste the components of the world is directed, with a mind that lived in the middle of the last century, and the poet enters the reality of the third millennium AD, as if it were an eye, and from a wide hole , I was looking at the future of the earth, after six decades. This is the era of the Crown, poet that goes through all time, this is the era of human division, and its social distancing, where the weak are broken again, poetry used to see it that way and you were, according to the standards of a bygone time.
Contradictory poetry released in an intense and compact package without spaces, in a language that you have to dive deeply to explore. In its various themes there are confession sentences and descriptive sentences, circular, which repeat the sentences at the beginning of the text in many of his poems, as if they were the focus around which the rest of the images revolved, as in the text of ” God and dry love “.
In a crying person’s journey, the body is busy avoiding further spasms and looking for a way to forget the sounds that accompany the pain. That noise that covers the sound of music in the world, deafening the human ear of beauty. They are meditations in the shape of a black tear, through which the poet imitates the structures that are aligned with pain in the middle of the roads, so that man stops exercising his joy. With this dry cargo, you address the antagonist of life through the text “O pain”, thus you write: O pain / You fall behind the eyes … behind the footsteps / We cry, because we are bodies /
Because our flesh is buried with staples / We cry, because our souls are left behind / We cannot deny ourselves / We cannot drink water / Oh pain / Without interruption we cry / Because madness in my country is buried / Stuck in ancient caves / The mold. / Virgin land / It lost its first smell / We are without beauty “.
As man exercises his weakness, poetry exercises its revolution and its anger. Nothing is as delicate as poetry, and nothing is as hard. Through her texts, the poet exports politics, customs and traditions, and the coffins of society that control the human being, to the theater of representation, looking for the revealing moment, to shout at all that, and end, deny and denounce, and defy all tyrants with their living tongue. Here is part of the social philosophy imposed on the female body, a rigid philosophy, time is constantly changing and remains constant like a dark grave. It was not a confession so much as a cynicism. The antipoetic behavior before society. His admission that he is a woman, respects the teachers, and is scared by the smell of blood that dominates the stories of his grandmother, is an explicit scourging of the social system, as he writes in the text “Don’t cut my hand / Don’t slap me / Orphan, sir / A roof should protect me / I am a woman in this country / I must wear the garment / I respect the teachers. / I remember my grandmother / Before every dream / She used to tell me stories / About the fire of hell / The torment of blood … blood “
The poet affirms more than once that she is a woman in this society. She does not speak of the physical aspect, but of the idea of women in a society that considers them a “scandal” that must be concealed.
And because it is, it must be further repressed, prevented from life, and imbued with humiliation. Has the situation changed after six decades? The woman from the East still dies without dying and ends up under her fear, as the poet says, in the text of “The city of ant caravans”: “I am a woman in this country / I end under my fear / I die without dying / Heads come together / Curses grow / Paint lost faces like snakes ».
Poetry released in an intense and compact way without spaces, with a language that needs to be explored in depth
And poetry has always been a companion in man’s understanding of the other, since it is a path out of the context of the harsh reality that the lover goes through. To find the other side and touch the pure thread in it. Love, in an opposite text, was a pity A state of evaporation, to the other side, behind the horizon, behind the whole world, and towards where the desire to navigate, and the elimination of the dream of life, except ending in the edge of the face, like a long rolling tear. In the text of “My blue candle”, the poet writes: “Longing has stolen me / I don’t know how to sleep, my love / My blue sailboat / It crosses the blue horizon / The scent of spring / hangs on my chest / I finish / like a tear on the edge of the face. “
As for the title of the group “Dios y Amor Seco”, it is an epic text in which the poet advances towards the door of the world, inscribing on its surface the various forms of death on earth, and writing the exaggerated questions, that they do not ascend to heaven, about the nature and severity of their behavior with the person, and the wounds that even man bears. His skin is wrinkled, his mind is gone, his body is gone. It also monitors the absurdity of murder, fear, injustice, repeated human endings, and the monotony of living with the same image. Moadad writes an extensive text in which he deals with the repentance and disappointment of man, and this is part of him: “The blue eye that looks / Oh my eagerness / To whom the sun rises / Eat our tender flesh / And our bodies throw Wheat grains / buried in the ground / absorbed by moisture / Sad cyclamen appeared / And the anemones laughing ».
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