There are no seasons in the Muslim wasteland

“How can it be an Arab Spring when people are being killed every day?”

This was the recently reported rhetorical question of the Christian Patriarch of the Maronite Church in Syria.

That's Syria, where pro-Sharia Islamic supremacists are gaining a foothold.

Syria, where an Islamic cleric supporting the rebellion against Assad has issued a ruling that it is "permissible" to kill the men, women and children of the Alawite minority (a minority, this cleric adds, which all the Muslim sects "hate").

Syria, where Christians fear worse persecution from the "liberators" who wish to topple the Assad regime.

Somehow, I doubt that the Patriarch really knows the answer his rhetorical question poses, for one senses, even in his sincere dismay, a hint of the psychocultulural residues of an inveterate dhimmitude in him (e.g., when in the same article, he is reported to add: “We are with the Arab Spring but we are not with this spring of violence...”).

His rhetorical question is, thus, not ruthless enough. And that is what the wages of Islam wreaks on the minds of those it has conquered: an ultimate passivity, and an anxious hope for some form of conviviality with what is assumed, in a bleak, semi-conscious fatalism, to be an endless co-existence with Muslims.

At any rate, the answer which the Patriarch has not fully digested in all its horror we could imaginatively pen not in the words of a Thomas Edward Lawrence ("of Arabia"), but of a horribly imagined Thomas Stearns Eliot in Arab garb:

The Wasteland of Islam
by T.S. (Taslim Sarwar) "Tom" Eliot

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Jihad out of the dead land, mixing
Sharia and Shaheed, stirring
Dull skulls with spring blood.