Between absence and nostalgia…a reading of the poetry collection (Before the awakening of the sea) by the poet Hussein Al-Sayyab

Yemen

Yamanat

Mohammed Al-Mekhlafi

When I opened a collection of poems (Before the Sea Wakes) by the Iraqi poet Hussein Al-Sayyab, I felt like I was entering a flower garden full of tranquility, reflecting his sitting posture and calm nature that everyone who sat next to him knew.
Al-Sayyab treats poetry like a person treats things that he is afraid of breaking in his hands. He maintains the simplicity of his spirit and the distance that a writer needs to listen well.

He has published several books, the first of which was his collection of poetry (Le Temps du coeur) in Baghdad in 2019, followed by a second edition in 2020, then (Eloges de la Pain) in 2020, (Playing on the Sands) in 2022, and (Rain on the Cheek of Clay) in 2024.

This latest collection (Before the awakening of the sea), which is the subject of this study, was recently published in 2025 by Maison Manazil in Damietta – Egypt. It has 143 pages and includes 127 poetic texts. It begins with a text entitled (You are the dream that wakes me up every morning) and ends with (The Country of Hassan Ajami).

Through this modest study, I will attempt to approach the collection as an emotional experience rather than as successive texts, and to discover how Al-Sayyab was able, with his quiet poetry and his deep contemplation, to awaken the sea in the reader’s heart before it awakens on paper.

The title of the collection (Before the awakening of the sea) was successful because of the connotations it conveys. The word (before) opens a waiting space in anticipation of what the sea will say when it wakes up, because the sea is a living being that sleeps and wakes up. When the poet attributes the act of awakening to him, he traces the relationship of man to place. “Awakening” here refers to the moment of transformation that carries hidden tensions and prepares the reader to enter a world full of events.

When I looked through the titles in the collection, I didn’t treat them as a rigid list, but rather as if they were small signs that led me to an inner mood, despite the different images and diversity of locations. I felt like the poet was writing with an inner question he didn’t want to clearly name: who am I in the midst of all this loss? He may not say it directly, but the headlines give it away.
Titles such as (A day that spreads like the wings of absence), (Sorrows without boats) and (Mist of mirrors) give the impression of a person walking looking behind them more than in front of them. There is a slight perplexity and confusion similar to that moment when a person tries to remember a path they know, but it is no longer the same.

On the other hand, the titles shine with a clear desire to capture what escapes: (I’m writing you a song), (Your breath is a homeland), (Bismillah love). It’s as if the poet is saying to himself: if the absence is bigger than me, then maybe I can at least remember a sound, a smell or a moment.

Even titles that seem calm, like (Peace be upon you) or (Old photos of you), are not devoid of this return that we all know, a return to moments that did not end as they should. The poet does not remember the past here out of nostalgia, but rather as if examining his old notebooks to discover where the hurt really began.

Perhaps the presence of myth in (Ishtar) and (Song of Gilgamesh) is not a cultural embellishment, but rather an attempt to show that human questions have not changed much since the beginning: the same pain, the same search and the same loss, even if the tools have changed.

As for the titles related to the road, such as (The journey of a poet), (The train) and (The paths of seduction), they indicate that the poet is in constant movement, walking continuously, because if he stopped for a single moment, he would be forced to confront himself directly, which he tries to delay as much as possible.

And between all these movements, the sea, absence, rain and winter remain silently present elements, like an interior time that does not change, rather like clouds that accompany you until the end, even if it does not rain.

Selections from the collection:

1- My eyes on you attract me..!!

Wandering places
Grow with me
I look at the world from a narrow aperture
Enough for half an eye
And half a heart
See the world the way I want.

I come from a generation crushed by the temptation of war
The forgotten homeland is on the verge of a bullet!
We walked in the shadow of death
In the shadow of fear we fled
In the shadow of the hair tucked into the soldiers’ bags, the days consumed us.
With the profession of a southern farmer

In this text, Al-Sayyab reveals to us an experience he lived under the weight of war and the terror of fear. The “narrow aperture” is not physical, but rather a symbol of a limited ability to see in the midst of chaos. Even if it is narrow, his window remains for him to perceive life as he wishes, and not as it is imposed on him.

The images convey a sense of pain and anxiety, as the “shadow of death” and “the shadow of fear” pursue him as if he were constantly on the run. But in the middle of all this, there remains something that links him to life and his roots (with the profession of a southern farmer), which represents his connection with his land and his heritage, and testifies to his belonging despite the bitterness and cruelty of reality.

2- Flood

Me and I cry
Maritime cliff
I recommend you every time it counts water
In his stomach…
Drip
It flows from me like your pulse
Every night I melt and get drunk at the roar of your voice
You are the soul
And after you there is a continuous flood.

The text is based on a basic idea, that of continuous crying, as if it were a wave that does not stop. The sea here represents the place where the poet expresses his feelings towards his beloved. The images are clear and simple, but they convey a strong feeling that goes beyond the words he is trying to express. The repetition of words such as water, impulse and dissolution gives the text a feeling of harmony and warmth.

The phrase (You are the soul) represents the point to which the text clings, while (And after you, a continuous flow) reflects more the poet’s fear of loss than the expression of love itself, which gives the text sincerity and tangible emotion.

3- Walls of nostalgia

The wall of rain rises
It’s like a mirage
He takes the air
I reach out in the anxious night
A star falls on my shoulder
The shadows whisper your name
there
Behind the trembling of the light
Your face hangs on a troubled memory
The old rain flows from his eyes
And I’m torn between my pulse and yours
Like a balcony consumed by silence
And it remained hanging on the windward side..!!

The text speaks of nostalgia, of a deep feeling which is like a barrier difficult to overcome. Poetic images such as “Your face hangs on a troubled memory” and “Like a balcony consumed by silence” honestly convey brokenness and make nostalgia palpable to the reader, so that they can experience and coexist with it.

The language of the collection is sincere and close, reflecting the spirit of the poet as if he were sitting before the reader and recounting moment by moment, without trying to impress us with words. His style sometimes tends toward short sentences and other times toward stanzas, but it always maintains a strong emotional impact that makes us feel what the poet is experiencing, not just what he wants us to see.

The collection (Before the Sea Awakens) constitutes an important addition to Iraqi and Arabic poetry, as it presents an honest and simple experience of expressing absence and desire, using pure language and symbolic images that make the sea, the rain and the inner journey a witness to the poet’s consciousness, and leaves the reader space to feel and interact with his texts freely and contemplatively.

Yemen