The Road Map (5)
For the time caught in the act of digging in my mother's face
For the sun buried in the folds of pain straying between the eyelashes
For the wind screaming in the darkness of the bowels
For the rain panting on a skirt of jasmine
For all these – some sweets
a scarf from a rainbow
and a crust of bread from the dwelling of the pirates
The road may become shorter
or longer
and in its map the thickening blood lose its way with the anomalies of speech
and I lose mine
The glass sends its sensors to my tongue
one after another, its clusters come in the wine
One after another promises come
and government..
î î î
للشَّمسِ المَدفُونَةِ في ثَنَايَا الوَجَعِ التَّائِه ِبَينَ الأهداب
للرِّيحِ الزَّاعِقَةِ في ظُلمَةِ الأَحشَاء
لِلُهَاث ِالمَطَرِ على تَنُّورَةٍ من يَاسمين
بعضُ الحلوى
وشاحُ من قوس ِقُزَح..
وكسرةُ خبزٍ من بيتِ القَرَاصِنَة..
قد يَقصُر ُالطَّريقُ
أَو يَطُولُ
ويَتُوهُ في خَارِطَتِه ِالدّم المُتَخَثِّرُ بشَوَارِدِ الكَلاَم..
وأَتُوه ُ
يَبعَث ُالكأسُ بِمِجَسَّاتِهِ إلى لِسَاني
تَتَرَادَفُ في النَّبيذِ أعذاقُه
وتَتَرادَفُ الوُعُود
والحُكومات..
î î î
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