[Editor's Note: I began wrting to Layla Anwar sometime ago when I first discovered her writings on the net. She was always kind enough to reply to my letters. Due to a heavy workload over recent months I've been unable to keep up the correspondence but today I found the time to write to her again. I thought I would publish this for others to read.]
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June 17th, 2007
Father’s Day
Dear Layla,
Forgive me. It has been way too long since I last wrote to you. Not that I have forgotten all that you have done for me via your writings. It is impossible to forget. Just the sound of your name alone is enough to release the trap door within my mind wherein lies hidden from my daily life the horror, the destruction and the insanity that is Iraq today.
One of the English Romantic poets, I’m not sure which one for I have a memory similar to yours when it comes to names, (I think it was Shelley) once wrote that “a heavy weight of hours has chained and bound one too like thee, (speaking of the Skylark) tameless and swift and proud.” I feel like that of late. My time to myself in order to reflect on your beleaguered nation, as you are wont to do on a 24/7 basis, is so limited, so circumscribed by daily events of such a mundane order that it is almost puzzling that a world could exist wherein such variance occurs in different parts of what is ultimately a seamless whole.
When I read your reports of the atrocities and the unabashed and blatant brutality and bloodletting that is all a part of your daily fare in Iraq I question whether or not we’re actually living in the same world.
Not that my world is without relative challenges but the challenges that I and the majority of us here in Canada face pale in comparison with those that are occurring in your God-forsaken country.
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