Absence and desire: a reading of the collection of poetry (Before the awakening of the sea) by Hussein Al-Sayyab

Yemen

Yemenite

Mohammed Al–Mekhalfi

When I opened the poetry collection (Before the Sea Wakes) by Iraqi poet Hussein Al-Sayyab, I felt like I was entering a flower garden filled with tranquility, an atmosphere that reflects his calm presence and gentle nature, known to all who sat beside him.

Al-Sayyab approaches poetry as one handles something fragile, something that one fears breaking in one’s hands. He preserves the simplicity of his mind and maintains the necessary distance a writer needs to listen deeply to his own inner voice.

He has published several works, starting with his first collection of poetry (By the Heart’s Time) in Baghdad in 2019, followed by a second edition in 2020. Then came (Hymns of Pain) in 2020, (The Sand’s Melody) in 2022 and (Rain on the Clay’s Cheek) in 2024.

This latest collection, (Before the Awakening of the Sea), the subject of this study, was recently published in 2025 by the Manazil publishing house in Damietta, Egypt. It spans 143 pages and contains 127 poems. It begins with a text entitled You Are the Dream That Awakens Me Every Morning and ends with The Land of Hassan Ajami.

Through this modest study, I will attempt to approach the collection as an emotional experience rather than as a sequence of separate poems, seeking to understand how Al-Sayyab, with his calm poetic voice and deep reflection, managed to awaken the sea in the reader’s heart before it awakens on the page.

The title (Before the sea wakes) is a successful choice, rich in layered meanings. The word “before” opens a waiting space for what the sea might say when it wakes up, since the sea is treated as a living being that sleeps and wakes up. By attributing the act of awakening to it, the poet redraws the relationship between humans and place. Awakening in this context alludes to a moment of transformation, carrying subtle tension and preparing the reader to enter a world filled with unfolding events.

As I looked through the titles of the books, I thought of them not as a rigid list, but as little signposts guiding me toward a unified inner mood despite the different images and varied landscapes. I had the impression that the poet writes with a question within him that he does not wish to name clearly: who am I in the midst of all this loss? He may not say it outright, but the headlines gave him away.

Titles like A Day Expanding Like the Wings of Absence, Sorrows Without Boats and Mirrors’ Mist give the impression of someone walking looking behind them more than ahead. There is a gentle confusion, a hesitation that feels like when a person tries to remember a path they know but no longer finds it the same.

On the other hand, certain titles shine with a desire to cling to what continues to escape us: I Write You as a Melody, Your Breath Is a Homeland, The Benediction of Love. It is as if the poet said to himself: If the absence is greater than me, perhaps I can at least retain a voice, a scent, a fleeting moment.

Even seemingly calm songs, like Peace Upon the Ink of Life or Old Pictures of You, bear traces of that look back that we all know, the return to times that didn’t end as they should have. Here, the poet does not revisit the past out of nostalgia, but as if consulting old notebooks to discover where the wound truly began.

Perhaps the presence of myth in Ishtar and The Hymn of Gilgamesh is not mere cultural ornamentation, but an attempt to suggest that the issues of humanity have not changed much since the beginning, the same pain, the same search, the same sense of loss, even if the tools have changed.

Travel-related titles such as A Poet’s Journey, Train and The Paths of Temptation suggest that the poet is in constant motion, always on the move, for if he stops for even a moment he will be forced to confront directly, which he tries to postpone for as long as possible.

In the midst of all these movements, the sea, absence, rain and winter remain quietly present, like an interior climate that never changes, clouds that accompany you on the road even when it is not raining.

Collection selections

1. Your eyes draw me

Troubled places grow with me.
I look at the world
through a narrow slit,
wide enough for half an eye,
half a heart,
so that I can see life the way I want to see it.

I am from a generation
crushed by the seduction of war,
and a homeland forgotten by a bullet.
In the shadow of death,
we walked. In the shadow of fear,
we fled.
In the shadow of hidden poetry
in the soldiers’ bags,
the days were devouring us.
With the know-how of a southern farmer.

Al-Sayyab reveals in this poem an experience shaped by the weight of war and the terror of fear. The “narrow slit” is not a physical opening, but a metaphor for a limited ability to see in the midst of chaos. Despite its narrowness, it remains his own window, his personal way of perceiving life as he wishes and not as it is imposed on him.

The images convey a deep sense of pain and unease. The shadow of death and the shadow of fear follow him as if he were in constant flight. Yet, in the midst of all this, something still anchors him to life and to his roots, the profession of a farmer in the South. This craft symbolizes its connection with the land and its heritage, testimony to its belonging despite the bitterness and harshness of reality.

2. Flood

It’s me and the tears,
a sweep of the sea
I entrust you every time
I count the water in its depths,
drop after drop.

Your pulse comes out of me,
and every night I melt,
I am intoxicated by the roar of your voice.
You are the soul, and after you, an endless stream.

The poem is based on a single central idea, endless crying, a wave that never stops. The sea becomes the space where the poet expresses his emotions towards his beloved. The images are simple and clear, but they convey a depth of feeling that exceeds the very words that attempt to contain them. The repeated use of elements such as water, pulse, and cast iron give the poem a sense of harmony and warmth.

The phrase “You are the soul” anchors the entire poem, while “and after you, an endless stream” reveals the poet’s fear of loss more than it expresses love itself, giving the text a sincere and palpable emotional weight.

3. Walls of Desire

The wall of rain rises
like a mirage trying to hold on to air.

I hold out my hand
in a suspicious night,
and a star falls
on my shoulder
While the shadows
whisper your name.

There, behind the quivering of the light,
your face freezes
of a vague memory,
the old rain flowed from his eyes.

And I collapse between my heartbeat and yours, like a gnawed balcony
By the silence, left in suspense
to the size of the wind.

The poem revolves around a long, deep emotion that arises like a barrier that is difficult to overcome. Poetic images such as “your face hanging on a blurred memory” and “like a balcony consumed by silence” convey a sincere sense of fragility, making desire almost tangible for the reader, something they can feel and experience.

The language of the collection is honest and intimate, reflecting the poet’s mind as if he were sitting before the reader, recounting each moment without trying to impress them with ornate words. His style sometimes leans toward short, sharp lines and sometimes toward fragmentary rhythms, but it always retains a strong emotional resonance that allows the reader to sense what the poet is experiencing, not actually what he wants them to observe.

(Before the Sea Wakes) constitutes an important addition to Iraqi and Arabic poetry, offering an authentic and unadorned expression of absence and desire. Through clear, flowing language and symbolic imagery, the collection transforms the sea, rain and inner journey into witnesses of the poet’s emotional landscape, leaving the reader with the opportunity to feel, react and contemplate freely.

Yemen