Do not whoop in the presence of obsequies ready for wedding
This is a fire defaming the family in the likeliness of ashes
The outsets jolted
May be it is a homicide returning from the hell of funerals
Maybe it is a homicide garbed in the cracks of fear
Having selected the city
May be it is a ringing of ascending skulls before they are plowed by the tide
Or kneel before the braveness of deluge
Maybe
On a footpath like a cold breeze we met
Beseeching the fever of distance
That the moon should have a sail of meteorite silver
That the clouds should have a swing of foam at dawn
The sky will not stitch the land’s wounds
That clouds beget from the caravans of lassitude
That…..
It should maunder for an expanding heart
O’ how deep I was lonely.
Like a martyr stepped down from the edge of death
Swaggering saddles of wind
Appearing like an eagle swooping down
The graves expanding but not slacking
Your wounds became like a stunned history
a helmet for capture
An ax dreaming and offering votives
No… you are not a blood refugee
You are a thirsty wildfowl
A friend for the passion of palm trees
How many windows will you rap on your visions
How many dreams could tolerate
You are not the yielding one in roots of salt
A hermit
Does anything grow under your shadow but blood
A stranger adorned with clay
Charming in the clamor of death
Stretched over fences and thistles
Darning those thrones that whispered in panic
In the battle of hunger, become a lance
Beleaguering the shoulder
You feel the water and give it the flavour of flow
So it becomes
Clouds breeding in the flaccidness of sky
Pearl of dew in the hardness of sea
Indulge in your stories so we can see you
A splintered body
Deeply in contact with flinders
You extend your arms
I become an intoxicated bird about to break the ambit
You stand like a horizon of tremor
Bestowing taste of dew to the flame
Apple of heart, passion of confession
Oracles that reveal the secrets of waves within your eyes
Whose eyes exceed limits in my blazing
As if this soul is a waterfall of sunken joy
Two bodies riding the nipple of clamor
Penetrated deeply into the oblivious path
In the celebration of body
Oh, how close you were
Who is that standing perplexed!?
Spears around you and passion for the sea
Nations astounded by the revolution through the keyhole
Childhood with stones running, camp’s blood
The banner is a fragmented bread
Fire of a massacre
Those who are clapping will survive
The alleyways become narrow
It was a history which remains no more
We read the margin and we are imprisoned within
It was of clay, having the face of history and bait of the homeland
It is the earth
Erased, the names to unmask its murderers
Writing to the heavens
To rain bread shaped in a whiteness of moon
Heavy is the heritage of this soul
Cowardice, links visions with a clamor of tribes
Like cloaks, it eases it into the frost of paper
In the evening, like the one in which I gazed
The body merged with the ascendancy of writing
The horizon tottered in a temporary whiteness
A word with the courage of waves mounts the back of physiognomy
Captivated by an obstreperous lust
In rhythms of terror, I began preparing feathers of words
In a drunken creativity
“I pluck the sea and devirginize the water
Create a conglomeration of clouds and scatter nations in paper camps
I stand like Sinbad
To soothe this pain”.
My sword extends up to my forehead
I venture once more and see two swords
“Through my radiant wound
My horses are stubborn “
I write
The blow is undoubtedly coming
I once again involve
The inferno of ink alights as a peacock of anguish
That spreads my sails
Boggled, I adjoin the passion of horizon
I whoop high
Don’t Blame Anyone
(Verses)
Who except you trust the treachery of the cloud
Who except you wane, thus, with no justification
Who except you, looses his soles at the door
Who except you, interpret the iciness of paper with your vigour
Who except you hurls the universe toward you
Who except you lacks what is his
Who is equivalent to you
O’ you body.
When weeping
Steals the water away from you
To reveal a lake anguished by the carving of salt
She resorts to you
A leaf
After leaf
She drops from you.
Born in Bahrain in 1957, Fawzia Al Sindi, is a commerce graduate from the University of
Cairo. She has six poetry books published. Her poems have been translated into many
languages and her name has been included in many anthologies of different languages
worldwide. She has taken part in many poetry events and conferences in Bahrain and
overseas. She is a columnist and contributing member of editing teams in a number of
periodicals and magazines. She is well know as a female activist.