Thek-Zeroual Omar

RAMO is born in 1990 near Casablanca, Morocco. He has a background in fine arts and mathematics, he lives and works currently in Paris. His work aims to explore the spaces between literature and visual arts through installations, language and mixed media. He shares his self-reflective journey on being and belonging through multi layered works inspired by literature, abstracts and pop culture. 
His poems have been published in 2017 by The New River Press, in 2019 his installation “The Man from Mars” Has been shown in Musée National de l’histoire de l’Immigration ( Palais de la Porte Dorée), He also performed at Paris Internationale and he is one of Laure Prouvost’s “Deep See Blue Surrounding You” main performers. 
He’s part of l’Atelier des Artistes en Exil and he pursues an academic program in language and civilization at l’Université de Paris.

I came to you four times in ten years,
Once with family
Once for work
Once for leisure
And this time, I don’t really know why, but I’m here
Maybe that I miss my country so much, Maybe I just need a mother
You look young and old and warm and tough and tanned and beautiful and broken
And so I do
You are the silent flow of the white Mediterranean Sea
And I am used to the roaring ocean
So hear my voice
And give me a hug despite our differences
I’m used to rolling with the waves instead of floating,
I’m used to watching the horizon, thinking only America exits on the other side, or
I have never thought of you in my daydreams.
Where I come from, dreams and disappointments go hand in hand
And you are no disappointment
Do you understand me now?
I hope you’d lie down your judgments and give me a hug
Hands free
Just the wind hitting my face
I’m used to the violent expressions of love
I hope you’d lie down your judgements and understand that both my Arabness and
English are about you
Even if I can’t address you in a language that you speak.
I am from Casablanca, not the movie.
Miami Beach, the swimming pool
California, not the state, but the gated district where my surgeon cousin built a
fancy house that was set as a goal for every child in my family.
I have been told that I would make a good surgeon
My hands are delicate, my fingers long, my grades good
But there is a different side to my story
And there is a different side to my hands
One on which you can read a different life path.
And ever since I’ve been flying north seasonly
An angry paper plane , a feather in the wind
It doesn’t really matter because
I believe that surgery and poetry are the same
They’re both about pain and healing
About humans at their most vulnerable
Holding on to life, despite the bleeding
I’m sure you’d understand
I hope you’d lie down your judgements and give me hug
I won’t leave this time if I don’t feel loved back.

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