Have they managed to bury you,
bury you alive
in the desert sands,
in the middle of an orange
colored night
in the midst of a
desert storm....
Erase you,
erase you and erase your traces
erase your name
your origins
and your ID
your prophets
are not from you
nor is the alphabet
they are the bastards
of history
let us find them other
roots, other fathers
away from you...
your scent is no longer
nor is your name
you are an abandoned
woman,
they stamped your expiry age
on the imported cans...
replaced on shelves
of amnesia
replaced
with museums
with statues
of black cloth...
You are no longer,
the green is not green
and the white is only blood
germinating in scorched lands
germinating in hot sands...
I sniff for you
like a dog
a dog
lost in a desert storm...
From Layla Anwar's blog 'An Arab Woman Blues - Reflections in a Sealed Bottle'
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.