I shall let the manacles that have long hindered me
Fall down by themselves
If the chains would like to remain as intricately inertwined as ever
Still interjoined like flesh in my forearm
By : Aisha Razem
I shall let the manacles that have long hindered me
Fall down by themselves
If the chains would like to remain as intricately inertwined as ever
Still interjoined like flesh in my forearm
Until they are part of my body, and I am made of their iron material
For we have become mere fetters
Never being able to do without each other
Lying on the first step
At the front row
Saying no to the whim of escaping
No room for leaping over the neck of the road
Which, the more you sweep clean,
The more garbage accumulate above its chest
No matter how clean your hands are !
Perhaps, it is meant for being forever dirty
..............
Just recently, I have been surprised with those jumping the high queues
Doing their best to keep the village as filthy and sick as ever
To keep it engulfed with darkness
And its children covered with flies
Their eyes squinting at what is being exerted behind doors !
Now I know that those who have jumped to those rows
Want to prove to everybody
That they are submerged with concerns
Over the deadly illnesses affecting the village ;
The one which has been abandoned by those jumping the high queues
...............
I was left behind, guarding the streets alone
Staring long at the shut windows ;
at the shabby curtains hanging low,
The broken glass behind the iron bars
Oozing with pus !
Looking after emptiness at night
Rejoicing over the greeting coming to me from a troubled passer-by
Nearly pouring kisses over him
And taking off my hat to him
Out of respect that I have inherited from my father since the days of the Mandate
When he would greet the British with the commandos blood
Tightening the belt of his pants
Announcing that he would saddle the mare of greeting
And asking my mother to fetch the mare right away
At the earshot of criminals
Though he did not have a single mare
................
Then he would wake up every morning
And ride his bicycle
In the very early morning
Before even a friend would happen to catch a sight of him
And before people, namely the British, would know
That he did not have a single mare !
.............
And when the enemies found out the secret of the mare
The soldiers confined him in the barracks of the enclave
And fettered his neck with a red ribbon
Then crowned him with the inevitable verdict
..............
Since those moments
I have kept on wiping away my father's blood in every hut called classroom
For since I had joined the first grade
I knew that I would never ascend to the high rows
Thus, in every morning
On the road to school crammed with talented ones
I used to see myself unlike any talented one
As I passed by seated weeping old ladies
In front of the tumbledown huts over blood and the camp mud
Those oldies awaking from no sleep
Before and after the cries of roosters
For they would not sleep
Even after they had been reassured by the guards of the high rows
That the huts were free from hornets
............
Just recently, I have been surprised with those jumping the high queues
Doing their best to keep the village as filthy and sick as ever
To keep it engulfed with darkness
And its children covered with flies
Their eyes squinting at what is being exerted behind doors !
Now I know that those who have jumped to those rows
Want to prove to everybody
That they are submerged with duties and concerns
And that they are straining every nerve to combat the deadly illnesses
Affecting the village
Abandoned by those who have jumpedthe high queues!
Poetry by Aisha Razem
Read 843 times
Written on 2009-06-28 at 06:02
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Fall down by themselves
If the chains would like to remain as intricately inertwined as ever
Still interjoined like flesh in my forearm
Those Jumping the High Queues ( Part 2 )
Those Jumping the High QueuesiBy : Aisha Razem
I shall let the manacles that have long hindered me
Fall down by themselves
If the chains would like to remain as intricately inertwined as ever
Still interjoined like flesh in my forearm
Until they are part of my body, and I am made of their iron material
For we have become mere fetters
Never being able to do without each other
Lying on the first step
At the front row
Saying no to the whim of escaping
No room for leaping over the neck of the road
Which, the more you sweep clean,
The more garbage accumulate above its chest
No matter how clean your hands are !
Perhaps, it is meant for being forever dirty
..............
Just recently, I have been surprised with those jumping the high queues
Doing their best to keep the village as filthy and sick as ever
To keep it engulfed with darkness
And its children covered with flies
Their eyes squinting at what is being exerted behind doors !
Now I know that those who have jumped to those rows
Want to prove to everybody
That they are submerged with concerns
Over the deadly illnesses affecting the village ;
The one which has been abandoned by those jumping the high queues
...............
I was left behind, guarding the streets alone
Staring long at the shut windows ;
at the shabby curtains hanging low,
The broken glass behind the iron bars
Oozing with pus !
Looking after emptiness at night
Rejoicing over the greeting coming to me from a troubled passer-by
Nearly pouring kisses over him
And taking off my hat to him
Out of respect that I have inherited from my father since the days of the Mandate
When he would greet the British with the commandos blood
Tightening the belt of his pants
Announcing that he would saddle the mare of greeting
And asking my mother to fetch the mare right away
At the earshot of criminals
Though he did not have a single mare
................
Then he would wake up every morning
And ride his bicycle
In the very early morning
Before even a friend would happen to catch a sight of him
And before people, namely the British, would know
That he did not have a single mare !
.............
And when the enemies found out the secret of the mare
The soldiers confined him in the barracks of the enclave
And fettered his neck with a red ribbon
Then crowned him with the inevitable verdict
..............
Since those moments
I have kept on wiping away my father's blood in every hut called classroom
For since I had joined the first grade
I knew that I would never ascend to the high rows
Thus, in every morning
On the road to school crammed with talented ones
I used to see myself unlike any talented one
As I passed by seated weeping old ladies
In front of the tumbledown huts over blood and the camp mud
Those oldies awaking from no sleep
Before and after the cries of roosters
For they would not sleep
Even after they had been reassured by the guards of the high rows
That the huts were free from hornets
............
Just recently, I have been surprised with those jumping the high queues
Doing their best to keep the village as filthy and sick as ever
To keep it engulfed with darkness
And its children covered with flies
Their eyes squinting at what is being exerted behind doors !
Now I know that those who have jumped to those rows
Want to prove to everybody
That they are submerged with duties and concerns
And that they are straining every nerve to combat the deadly illnesses
Affecting the village
Abandoned by those who have jumpedthe high queues!
Poetry by Aisha Razem
Read 843 times
Written on 2009-06-28 at 06:02
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