We Want Freedom to Move

The spirit of the Karen refugees - the communalness of it, the resiliency, the hopes, aspirations, ambitions, the pride - is strong and contagious. But there is also moments of longing, homesickness, despair, a feeling of being trapped, a common complaint among my students is that they want the freedom to move. To these realities and sighs can come this poem by Nazim Hikmet called "Some Advice to Those Who Will Serve Time in Prison": If instead of being hanged by the neck you're thrown inside for not giving up hope in the world, in your country and people, if you do ten or fifteen years apart from the time you have left, you won't say: "Better I had swung from the end of a rope like a flag"- You'll put your foot down and live. It might not be a pleasure exactly, but it's your solemn duty to live one more day to spite the enemy. Part of you may live alone inside, like a stone at the bottom of a well. But the other part must be so caught up in the flurry of the world that you shiver there inside when outside, at forty days' distance, a leaf moves. To wait for letters inside, or to sing sad songs, or to lie awake all night staring at the ceiling is sweet but dangerous. Look at your face from shave to shave, forget your age, watch out for lice, and for Spring nights; and always remember to eat every last piece of bread - also, don't forget to laugh heartily. To think of roses and gardens inside is bad, to think of seas and mountains is good. Read and write without rest, and I also advise: weaving and making mirrors. I mean, it's not that you can't pass ten or fifteen years inside and more - you can, as long as the jewel on the left side of your chest doesn't lose it's luster.