Contemplation Of A Lost Ink

My life is pale

the much I beheld the days and wept.

My death is weary

the much I beheld the nights and wept.

Let people die in the streets,

prostrate in the mosques,

kneel in the churches,

pray in the temples.

But I will go searching for a sacred poison

to die guarding my honest soul.

My tongue is red

the much I tasted immorality and spat.

My tongue is red

the much I tasted the lies and spat.

Let cats eat mice,

lions invade sheep.

But I will go burning my skin,

a meal for freedom

My ink is a rubber

the much I wrote and wept.

My ink is a rubber

the much I dis-wrote and wept.

Let novelists write stories,

create verses,

invest imagination.

But I will go folding my page,

a rag for emptiness.

( C ) Copyright 2008 ADEL ATTIYEH