The Iraqi Nights

I

In the first year of war,they play “bride and groom”counting everything on their fingers:the faces reflected in the rivers,the waves that take them and disappear,and the names of the newborns.Now the war grew upand created a new game:The winner returns from the journeyalone,full of stories of the killed ones,of the flutters of wings passing overtheir broken trees.He has to pull their hills of dust so lightlynobody should notice it.The winner wears a necklaceof half metal heartand the task after thatis to forget the other half.The war got oldand left the lettersand calendarsand newspapersgetting yellowwith the news,the numbers,and the players’ names.

II

Five centuries have passedsince Scheherazade toldher tale.Baghdad fell,they took me to the underworld.I watch the shadows as they passbehind the wall,not one of them looks like Tammuz.He will cross thousands of milesfor the cup of teaI will pour by my hand.I don’t want the tea to get cold.Worse than death is a cold tea.

III

I would not find this cracked jarif I was not lonely enoughto think of every glitter a gold.Inside the jar is the magical herbalways sought by Gilgamesh.I will show it to Tammuz when he arrives.We will go as quickly as a camera’s flashto the seven continents of the world.Everyone who smells the herbwill get cureor liberationor the secret word.I don’t want Tammuz to come too latefor my urgent song.

IV

When Tammuz arrivesI give him also all the lists I collectedto pass the time:lists of food, books,lost friends,favorite songs,cities one must see before death,lists of ordinary thingswith notes to provewe are alive.

V

As if I hear music in the arch of the boat.As if I smell the river     the lily     the fish.As if I touch the skies falling from “I love you.”As if I see those small notes to be read again and again.As if I live the life of birds carrying their feathers only.

VI

The earthrotated againaround the sun,and no cloud,no wind,no countriespassed through my eyes.My shade imprisonedin Aladdin’s lampreflectsa picture of the world and you in it,light passing through a needle’s eye,scribbles in cuneiform,hidden ways to the sun,dry clay,Ottoman still cup,gigantic pomegranate with seeds scattered all over Uruk.

VII

In Iraqafter one thousand and one nights, someone will talk to someone else.Markets will be openfor regular customers.Little feet will ticklethe giant feet of the Tigris River.Birds will spread their wingsand nobody will shoot them.Young women will walkin the streetsand nobody will kidnap them.Older women will notlook back in fear.Men will say their real nameswithout danger.Children will go to schooland come back home.Chickens in the villagewill not peck human body partson the grass.People will arguewithout suicide attacks.A cloud will passover carsthat go to work as usual.A hand will waveto someone leavingor someone coming back.The sun will rise equallyfor those whowake upand for thosewho never do.And every daysomething ordinarywill happen under the sun.