1242: Aleppo by Hala Alyan

Summary

Podcast Summary: The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily Episode: 1242: Aleppo by Hala Alyan
Release Date: November 19, 2024
Host: Micah Kielbaun
Featured Poet: Hala Alyan

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Introduction

In episode 1242 of The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily, hosted by Micah Kielbaun, listeners are invited to explore the intricate tapestry of memory, heritage, and collective suffering through the recitation of Hala Alyan's poignant poem, "Aleppo." This episode delves deep into personal reflections and broader societal issues, weaving together the intimate with the universal.

Micah Kielbaun's Reflections

Micah Kielbaun opens the episode by sharing a deeply personal dream that reconnects him with his late grandmother. He narrates:

"Recently I dreamt that my friend and I were moving into a big old apartment. Once we got the couch into the living room, my grandmother appeared sitting on it. I sat on the floor beside her, leaning my head against her frail knees." ([00:49])

This dream serves as a catalyst for Micah to reflect on his grandmother's legacy and the enduring impact of familial bonds. He reminisces about the lessons she imparted:

"She taught me how to make meatballs, to be friendly with the butcher behind the counter, to not be scared, to dig my hands into the raw meat, to bring something hot and sweet to the party." ([01:15])

Micah connects his personal memories to a broader context of current global suffering and unrest:

"We are witnessing mass suffering on this earth. We are in a moment full of fear and rage. I think my grandmother... came to me to remind me of the strength we need to carry each other." ([05:25])

These reflections set the stage for the thematic exploration in the featured poem, emphasizing inheritance, shared human experiences, and the vulnerabilities we face collectively.

Recitation of Hala Alyan's "Aleppo"

The heart of the episode is Hala Alyan's evocative poem, "Aleppo," which unflinchingly portrays the horrors and emotional toll of war. The poem paints a vivid picture of a city ravaged by conflict, juxtaposing personal loss with the chaos of destruction.

Selected Excerpts from "Aleppo":

"Someone ate paper. Someone isn't eating anymore. Mornings like this, I wish I never loved anyone." ([02:10])

"A lone bomb can erase a lineage. The nicknames for your mother, the ghost stories, the only song that put your child to sleep." ([04:00])

"Surrender or die. Or die. In the city, bombs peck the streets into a braille that we pretend we cannot read." ([04:45])

These lines convey a profound sense of loss, desperation, and the struggle to maintain humanity amidst relentless violence. The poem intertwines personal grief with the collective agony of a community under siege, highlighting the fragile thread that holds individuals together in times of turmoil.

Analysis and Insights

Micah Kielbaun provides insightful commentary on the poem's themes, drawing connections between personal heritage and the devastation witnessed in Aleppo:

• Heritage and Loss: The poem underscores the fragility of lineage and memory in the face of war. Micah reflects on how external forces can strip away generations, echoing his own fears of losing familial connections.

• Humanity Amidst Chaos: Alyan's work portrays the resilience and vulnerability of individuals caught in conflict. The imagery of bombs as a means to "erase a lineage" speaks to the intentional destruction of cultural and personal identities.

• Universal Suffering: By highlighting scenes of personal despair and communal destruction, the poem speaks to a universal audience, emphasizing that the pain of war transcends borders and backgrounds.

Micah connects these themes to his own experiences and observations, fostering a deeper understanding of how personal histories resonate within global crises.

Conclusions

Episode 1242 of The Slowdown masterfully intertwines personal reflection with powerful poetic expression. Through Micah Kielbaun's heartfelt introduction and Hala Alyan's stirring Aleppo, listeners are invited to contemplate the enduring bonds of family, the scars of war, and the resilience of the human spirit. This episode serves as a poignant reminder of the stories that shape us and the collective responsibility we bear in navigating a world fraught with challenges.

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Transcript

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[Micah Kielbaun]

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[Hala Alyan]

What's up? It's major. Today's episode is hosted by Poet and Slowdown producer Micah Kielban. Don't worry, I'll be back on November 25th.

[Micah Kielbaun]

I'm Micah Kielbaun and this is the Slow Recently I dreamt that my friend and I were moving into a big old apartment. Once we got the couch into the living room, my grandmother appeared sitting on it. I sat on the floor beside her, leaning my head against her frail knees. I'd never seen her in a dream before. I haven't seen her in a decade. My grandmother died in 2015. For most of my life, her dementia limited her cognition, her memory and her physical function. But I hold close the memories I have of our time together. She taught me how to make meatballs, to be friendly with the butcher behind the counter, to not be scared, to dig my hands into the raw meat, to bring something hot and sweet to the party. She immigrated to the US in 1945, after teenage years we know little about. Early in the war, her family fled her birthplace outside of Minsk. Her immigration papers say she left Europe from a displaced persons camp in Germany. She spoke Polish. She became a seamstress and a mother and a wife, living most of her life in the suburban Spokane Valley. A few days after the dream, I went to a party that had a psychic. I got in line and planned to ask why. Lately I'd felt so close to the veil. I'd been seeing angel numbers constantly and dreaming of the dead. But the psychic's allotted time ended before I could ask. I figured it was a question I would have to answer myself. We are witnessing mass suffering on this earth. We are in a moment full of fear and rage. I think my grandmother, a woman who witnessed and bore great suffering, a woman who was courageous and loving, came to me to remind me of the strength we need to carry each other. Today's poem explores what we inherit, what we share, and what we are liable to lose. Aleppo by Hala Alyan I talk back to the videos. Someone ate paper. Someone isn't eating anymore. Mornings like this, I wish I never loved anyone. What is it to be? A lucky city, a row of white houses strung with Christmas lights. There is no minute. A fortune teller told me I'd marry one of Aleppo's sons. That was seven years ago to spare. Yesterday I dreamt my grandmother was a child who led me by the hand to a cave. Inside I found the wolf. I buried a dagger in his hot throat. This is the dark the world let in and learned to stomach, to shoulder, to keep. I woke up with my hands wet. They are just this ugly human impulse to make it mine hours away. The Syria in my grandmother is a decade too old. When she dies, she will take it with her. This is how a lone bomb can erase a lineage. The nicknames for your mother, the ghost stories, the only song that put your child to sleep. No one is evacuating me. Your citadel fed to the birds, your mosque. Someone will make an art project out of your tweets. My daughter, the prophet's birthday arrives without a single firework. Surrender or die. Or die. In the city, bombs peck the streets into a braille that we pretend we cannot read. A street full of girl bodies, mattresses, cooked hearts. Meanwhile, the wolf sleeps in his wolf palace. He drops each ghost into a water hole and licks his perfect teeth. We were a free people. We could paper all of Arkansas with your missing May you give us nowhere else to look. May you burn every newspaper with your name on it. Every textbook, every memorial. This too. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poet Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the [e-mail] to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram @downdownshow.

[Hala Alyan]

Give your loved ones the gift of poetry this year with Poetry Magazine. Poetry's gift bundle includes a one year print and digital subscription to the magazine plus a limited edition tote bag. Your loved ones will receive 10 beautifully curated volumes of contemporary poetry and unlimited digital access through the Poetry Magazine app. It's a gift that lasts all year. Subscribe [e-mail] slow that's poetrymagazine.org slow.