UNDER THE COMMON ROOF Poem by Kujtim Hajdari

We all live under a common roof,
all of us on this small globe of the universe.
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We live in this world and share this ceiling,
where a thousand mirrorof culture cross,
where numerous beliefs reflect—and give off a human light,
where each of them tries to open a window of goodness
toward our common roof,
to throw more light
into the hidden room
of the human soul,
to bring their own reflection,
a new gleam.
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Some take this reality as a flame
burning in the palms of their hands,
as a glass that can shatter,
and often they feel themselves to blame.
Others see it as a flag,
as a second garment of ornament,
and in the crowd
the air becomes a storm of voices,
an arena of thunder,
a river of noise.
And sometimes a storm of clashes for freedom.
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Thus, time calls us toward tolerance,
rests its hands on our shoulders—friendly:
Tolerance, friends, is not silence,
nor clashes – it is acceptance,
a bridge that keeps us from burning,
not to eat each other.
It’s a dialogue – collaboration,
a weaving-together of our torn map of thoughts,
an open door in a hard winter
inviting the lost traveler covered with snow.
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It is the skill of drinking from unknown wells,
of feeling rain in someone else’s eyes,
of hearing music in foreign footsteps,
without thinking of the cup of hatred and poison,
without looking crookedly at different colors,
but seeing them as mirrors that reflect human love,
as a voice that calls for warm brotherhood.
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Tolerance asks for love and compassion.
It is like a second heartbeat,
like a pair of borrowed lungs,
like a warm lamp set at another person’s gate.
It enters another life with friendliness—
like bare feet on holy ground,
like a careful guest,
like a slow hand over a frightened animal—
asking, and offering help, not demanding:
“Where does it hurt you?”
“What have you suffered?”
“Why does the dark frighten you?”
“What name do you give inequality?”
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Evil, friends, begins as something small:
from a blind conviction,
from carelessness,
from a word thrown like mud.
Then it irritates like a pebble in the mouth,
like a needle behind the tongue,
like a thorn hidden in a shirt sleeve,
and it grows and runs like a rabid animal,
it conquers like fire,
it wounds like a knife that becomes a sword,
when we leave a person in shadow,
when we see them as a statue,
when we put them in the crosshairs,
when we label them many ways,
when we trample them underfoot.
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To not honor humanity is a kind of blindness:
to paint the world with a single color
is a deaf hymn,
a lone, limited sky in pain—
as if differences were cracks and wounds,
as if they were pollution, like weeds—
instead of seeing them as enrichment, as lifeness,
as a new line, another window to look through,
as space to taste life more.
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So let us become gardeners of the spirit,
lamplighters and beacons for living,
cartographers of mercy.
Let us grow our sense of safety
toward a wider horizon,
a warm light inour eyes,
a gentler chair,
for one more place at the bread table.
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Let our words come like a spring rain,
like warm bread,
keeping our hands open—
not to win,
but to mend,
to cool boiling blood,
to carry our brotherhood
everywhere in the world.
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In the end, we all sleep
beneath the same shared roof of stars,
under the covers that chance grants us,
under the ceiling of time that follows us and laughs,
for one day, we will go and leave everything here:
wealth and odds and ends—
we will take with us only the painful words:
“Rest in peace!”
*
Let every heart become a house,
where wounds will find a shelter for healing.
Our life is a note we are writing—
a brief journey we must live,
a thin light we can lose,
a thread we can snap so easily,
then suffer even beyond that.
Let our minds and hearts be open windows,
a wide harbor without waves,
and roads without tolls.
Let our differences be like rivers
that do not drown one another out of hatred, jealousy,
but meet like brothers in a sea of dignity.
Let them be a broad breath for everyone,
the beloved light of our commonness,
under the common roof – our Earth.
(Kujtim Hajdari)