Rest in the moon, and: Two tears flooding Paris, and: Who will die tonight?, and: For Lana Sadiq
Rent from DeepDyve- Rest in the moon, and: Two tears flooding Paris, and: Who will die tonight?, and: For Lana Sadiq
Rest in the moon
Take off your clothesRest in the moonlike a hunger for pomegranates in AprilTake off your sorrows and lie downin the hammock of night between two starsTake off your clotheswash yourself with the lightand for the lightA breeze has come from the southNothing but the breeze will come from the southto make fruit treesdisperse their pollen
Don’t be afraidTake off your facesin the calm of nightand let that moonunite with youOh ball of lightwithout fire!Invite the stars gleaming with graceas they recite the seasonswhose canticles blockedthe path of dayso that they can reach youOpen your eyesWhy don’t you see the sun?Move forward naked [End Page 7] standing tallto pluck off the last leavesand grasp a skein of sunlightEnter itand travel in itlike an arrow of loveInhabit the walls of its heartlike peaceBring the cold therethenlightning, then thunderDon’t be afraidIn your right hand, holdthe colors of the tribes, not of bombsand tint your left handwith the color of an oak-tree in Apriland the color of dawnso that you can cross overFor if you have crossedSo have we all
Two tears flooding Paris
Ghosts circle the skies of Paristhe ObélisqueHammurabi’s Codethe portals of Babylonthe jazz singerwho mends ripped roots with his voicethe Indianleaping from memorySalafistsand rock fansall these ghosts circle its waist [End Page 8] with the smell of couscousand polyester fashion showswhile my bed teems with bloodmy words bleedon the white of funeralsand the red of weddingsWill the flood comefrom the Nile, the Tigris, or the Euphrates?Are you here, river Seine?You have not overflowed your bedHow lucky, the one you chooseNoah of a new ageI have dressed in all the costumes of my countryto prepare for the floodThe dove will surelyreturn to you with his announcementit will bea deluge of corpseswhile I waitfacing the black holefor hope to return
Who will die tonight?
Who will die tonight?Tonightwe hear the voices of machine gunsnot death’s footstepsWho guides the bullet to choose who dies?The one who fires the gun?The bullet?Death itself?The one who dies?Or you, hiding we don’t know where, [End Page 9] or you, who we call by name?Who will rest among us?The sniper?The bullet?The one who stays behind to count the deador the one who waits because the sniper missed his target?The one far away struck with sadnessnot knowing whyor the one who died?All my grief!Dear world, dear universethey were killedthey were killedgood people killed by other good peopleIs there a candle in this darkness?Is there a guide for those who leave tonight so they’ll arrive at the threshold of light?and not at the threshold of new darknesses?Where are we?And who are we?And where does this path lead?Is time moving through uswhile it starts and ends with us?Will it leave with us to reach a different time?Dear world, dear universeI would like to swim in you like an invisible seedinaudible toobut feltI would like to leave this placeI would like to climb toward you, toward you [End Page 10]
For Lana Sadiq
On her face, all exiles,all the roads opened to refugees.Her face is an olive grove in Haifa and an orange orchard in Jaffaand West Bank fig trees and prickly pears from Galilee.The dove lives in her eyes with the flash of stones thrown by children.On her lips, the smile of the first daisy opening on...
