Arab Canada News
News
Published: June 5, 2022
She.
She: exactly like me
Where she now sits empty
Like an empty clay pot of water,
Nothing moves it.
She: exactly like me
Looking out from window doors
At a turn that sighs over its dry branches,
To the sky that does not bear from
Its womb an oak, like a mirror
Watching me, observing the steps
Of my face as it runs
Behind the distant keys
Of this flute filled
With absence
She: looks exactly like me
Like the living dead
Like this strange nothingness
In the direction of the wind
And we leave from
This empty crowd
From the crowd, like:
The living dawn like a red cloud
From whose face two doves fled.
Tuesday, 01 July 2025
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