Blesok no. 92, September-October, 2013
Poetry


Rodaan Al Galidi’s Miracle Egg

Rodaan Al Galidi



I Want to Lie Beside You


I want to lie beside you
like a wave next to a wave.
I want to become one with you
like a wave with a wave.
I want to follow you
like a wave follows a wave.
I want to travel in you
like a wave in a wave.
I want to lead you
like a wave leads a wave.
I want to disappear in you
like a wave in a wave.
I want to embrace you
like a wave embraces a wave.
I want you like a wave,
blue
and rolling on forever.




In one year


In one year
I will leave this cell.
Bars and guards taught me
to fear the outside.
Walls taught me
to fear the inside.
Alert
I will leave the cell
and somewhere I will rebuild it
so that I do not return to her.




Tomorrow


Tomorrow
I will go to the woman I love
and give her back her wings.
Tomorrow
she will no longer be
my cage.




Beautiful dream


I dreamt I was a cow.
In the dream I put on lipstick
and looked in the mirror,
seeing for the first time how beautiful I was.
‘Shame that all this beauty
is only for the bull’, whispered the mirror.
I came out of the stall
ate the ground for hours
and when night fell
I gave whole milk
instead of skim tears.




Harbor


My mother was the harbor,
my father a boat.

My mother was the boat,
my father a sail.

My mother was the sail,
my father a wind.

My mother was the wind,
my father a horizon.

The harbor, the boat, the sail, the wind, the journey and the horizon
where my mother
and my father and I
were travellers;
the one from the outside world
to her inside,
the other from inside her
out into the world.




This poem saved me


Death called, yesterday, and said:
‘I love your talent and want to make your acquintance.’
I said that I’d rather send him one of my books,
but he said: ‘I don’t mean your talent with words,
but with painting.
Many times I came too close.
Then you thought I was a tree
and painted me with the colors of your life.’
Death came, yesterday, into my ear,
and left me through this poem.




Please


Let me follow my dream.
First wake up the dream,
and then me.




Eight Hundred and Sixty


“Ladies and gentleman,
good evening.
It’s 6 July and this is the news.
This morning
in Iraq
860 people died
in several bomb attacks
and the U.S. soldier John Smith
was hit in the left leg
by a bullet.
The 32-year-old infantryman
graduated from technical college
before joining the army in 1999.
He is the father of two children:
Rosalie, aged six
and Keith, aged three.
His wife, Ashley, is an elementary school teacher.
According to
defence department sources,
Smith is in a stable condition
and should be walking again
after five months’ rehab.
Rafael Nadal has won Wimbledon.
The 22-year-old Spaniard
defeated five-time champion Roger Federer
in five sets:
6-4 6-4 6-7 (5) 6-7 (8) 9-7.
It is the first time
Nadal has won Wimbledon.”




Farmer


No potato
ever tried to kill itself.
No cucumber
ever said,
“I am not a cucumber, I’m a banana.”
No tomato will ever say,
“I don’t want to go in the soup,  I want to go in the salad.”
I’ve never heard
of a handicapped carrot
or a demented pepper.

That’s why I’m a farmer.




Rodaan Al Galidi’s Miracle Egg


Normally
I lay my thoughts on the page,
but a fortnight ago
I laid an egg.

Out of respect for my thoughts
and what might emerge from them,
I built a nest in the corner of the room
and sat on the egg.

Friends and colleagues
couldn’t believe I was trying to hatch out an egg.
They thought I had withdrawn
into my world.

How long must I brood?
Hopefully not a lifetime.

What will emerge?
Hopefully not a human.




Attempt to Leave


Sparrow, teach me to fly,
I’ll teach you how to write poems.
Teach me how to build a nest,
I’ll show you how to find a publisher.
Give me your feathers,
I’ll give you my coat.
Give me your fear,
I’ll give you my cat.
Give me your branch,
I’ll give you my bedroom.
Sparrow, if you give your life,
I’ll give you my cage.




Still Alive


They occupied the wall,
took the attic hostage,
murdered the roof
and boarded up the window.
They forced the balcony
to kill itself,
hurling its plants
down on the pavement.
They buried the cellar,
they ordered the shed to leave its junk behind
and disappear
and I
am still
alive.
I cook for my friends,
buy top-up cards for my words
and most importantly:
I can still sleep,
at least six hours a day,
and sometimes
I don’t even need
sleeping pills.




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