الذاكرة / المنفى / شعرية التجريد . دراسة نقدية للأديبة : أماني الصاوي

 

 

أعرف أن الناقدة : - أماني الصاوي - لا تشتغل على نص ، إلا إذا كان ناضجا وقويا وصلبا.  لأن طبيعة تفكيرها النقدي  يتجلى في البحث عن الفراغات المتعثرة وإزالة كل السخافات الفنية المبتذلة التي تفسد جوهر القصيدة المتكاملة . 

دراسة تلملم التقاليد المائتة التي تمارس الكثير من العادات العنيفة  علها تحرك الظلال التي تزحف نحو النسيان في الأجساد الفانية ، من خلال الغياب الذي يمارسه الصمت الذي قتل في القرية عطرها وأزاهيرها . 

تضع  د/ أماني الصاوي يدها على اللعبة التي يمارسها الريح تجاه العناصر الطبيعية الواقفة في وجهه ، وهو يستنطق الأصوات المخفية في البكاء وأنين الكمانات التي تكسر الألحان في غياب الجوقة والمنشد  .

شكرا للأديبة - أماني الصاوي -  وهي تنير عتمة قصيدتي -- [ هل لريفنا في قلبك مكان ؟ ] -- من خلال توارد الأفكار التي تتخلص من  الخوف المجاني للمقايس المستعارة للذاكرة الشعرية . 

-- محمد زغلال محمد  

المملكة المغربية -- 

Memory, Exile, and the Poetics of Dispossession

By Amany El-Sawy

A Critical Reading of Mohamed Zoughlal’s “Does Our Countryside Still Have a Place in Your Heart?”

Mohamed Zoughlal’s Does Our Countryside Still Have a Place in Your Heart? is a lyrical meditation on cultural disappearance and the emotional dislocation of rural exile. The poem offers not only an elegy for vanishing village life, but a layered critique of gendered silencing, historical amnesia, and the violent residues of tradition.

Zoughlal’s speaker is marked by estrangement—a figure who returns not to belong, but to confront the ruins of belonging. The act of walking along a riverbank, weighted and weary, becomes emblematic of memory’s burden. The river, often a symbol of vitality, is rendered here as a threshold between recollection and erasure.

Sound permeates the poem’s atmosphere: the moaning wind, weeping violins, and fractured melodies conjure a wounded acoustic memory. The nay (reed flute), with its hollowed “wounds,” testifies to silenced voices and lost songs. Even forgetfulness is personified as a whispering force—subtle, persistent, complicit.

A key symbolic gesture is the ironic invocation of the phoenix, whose cyclical resurrection becomes a metaphor not of hope, but of futility—suggesting that remembrance itself can be a source of torment. Likewise, Zoughlal’s list of village artifacts—“the house, the geese, the clay oven”—functions as an ethnographic lament, a catalogue of cultural disappearance.

Perhaps most striking is the poem’s treatment of the feminine. The veiled face, likened to a hidden moon, disrupts traditional symbols of beauty in Arabic poetry. Names such as Safiyya and Ruqayya evoke a silenced genealogy. The poet’s plea to “rescue the little girl from her Bedouin history” critiques patriarchal entrapment within rigid cultural codes.

The final warning—“Just feel your neck, for the place of beheading is inevitably wounded”—merges metaphor with visceral threat. It evokes systems of tribal justice and honor-based violence, transforming the rural setting from a place of nostalgia into one of embodied danger.

Zoughlal’s poem thus constructs a poetics of estrangement, where memory becomes both a site of resistance and a terrain marked by loss. In doing so, it mourns not only what has disappeared, but what was never allowed to fully exist.

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