Magazine of the Pen's Tear

To the reader who doesn’t just read, but interrogates the letter, and asks the paper about the meaning of darkness,
To the one wandering through the desert of time, searching for the shadow of a word beneath the sun of deception,
To the exile from his homeland, loyal to his mind as the heart is loyal to its noble pain...

We do not close this issue as one folds a page, but as one folds a wing to descend briefly before soaring again.
We write not merely because we have something to say, but because silence has become a noose tightening around the soul’s throat.
We write simply because we cannot not write.

In June, it’s not only the trees that bear fruit — questions ripen too, losses bloom, and faces long veiled by modesty are revealed.
June is no ordinary month; it is a mined memory.
It is the time when we are often slaughtered in the name of realism, and the dream is hanged on the balcony of compromise.
In it, maps shattered, ink faded in the graveyards of poetry — and yet it remains a pointing finger accusing the sky, never giving up on the rain.

In this issue,
we were not critics, nor mere guardians of eloquence,
but witnesses to the betrayal of words when they lose meaning.
We were doctors reviving letters that had slipped into a coma,
and lovers unafraid to kiss the truth, even if it was painful.

We wrote because writing is an act of resistance — no less sacred than prayer, no less dangerous than a bullet.
We wrote because language is not an ornament, but a path to justice, a mirror of dysfunction, and the last weapon when all others fail.

June…
That stranger who carries beneath his skin both the memory of the massacre and the smile of a child.
In June, memories fall — not as longing, but as interrogation.
In June, we ask ourselves:
How many times have we strangled the poem to please a highwayman?
How many times did we shake hands with tyranny using limp letters out of fear of isolation?
How many times did we stay silent, not out of wisdom, but because speaking was too costly?

But here at Tear of the Pen, we still believe that language is not for sale,
that a word which does not wound cannot heal,
and that a letter which does not scratch the face of power is nothing more than cultural décor in the palace of tyranny.

We write not to beautify, but to reveal.
We write so we do not die standing still.
We write because the first betrayal begins when we fall silent in the name of "prudence",
and the poem dies when it begins to bargain.

Dear friends,
Do not believe those who say that culture is neutral,
or that literature should only "inspire".
True literature doesn’t just inspire — it unsettles, it exposes, it provokes.
Do not listen to those who ask poets to be light like summer songs,
and ignore those who want poetry to dance instead of gasp.

Make your pens the blades that cut through lies,
and let your conscience be the fuel for the pages yet unwritten.
The world does not need more gentle chatter —
it needs a storm of fierce words.

We do not write to make the reader happy…
We write to keep him from sleeping peacefully while smiling at a lie.

And if anyone asks you:
“What’s the point of a magazine called Tear of the Pen?”
Say to them:
“It is the magazine that never turned away when humanity was broken —
It didn’t just weep, it recorded the tears so they would not be forgotten.”

We’ll meet you in the next issue —
when the need for words becomes like the need for air,
when the sky blushes from our silence,
and when all we have left is to open our hearts — not just to love, but to testify.

May you remain devoted… to meaning.
And may the pen never ask permission to write,
nor seek pardon from those who betrayed truth in the name of realism.

With regards,
The Editorial Board
Tear of the Pen Magazine

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مجلة دمع القلم .. عدد 18 حزيران

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