TAGHRID BOU MERHI

 

The Absent Pronoun!

 

My father was never old,

And the signs of gray had not touched his hair.

 

He was handsome and a man of respect and standing among people.

 

I wanted to tell him one day, "I miss you,"

But those cursed emotions stopped me,

They stood between me and him hearing what would gladden his heart.

 

My heart turned to nostalgia,

Heavy with plates of estrangement,

His gaze shifted with vigilance,

Hoping to reach a door or a dream,

Or even a spider's web!

 

And because visions are expressions that snatch away preconceived symbols,

My wounds found solace in a sanctuary,

Without the need for interpreting a single dream.

 

One dream I wished would visit me,

And cling to me whenever I raised my hands like a green tree.

 

Because reality does not resemble dream interpretation,

Nor the initial labels,

My father never visited me.

 

Now... everything is empty,

And my shirt is tied to the absent pronoun.

 

Now...

I bite my pen

Every time I turn to your face, it smiles with tenderness!

 

I wish I could have embraced you,

Instead of smoothing your white turban

And straightening its silver threads.

 

And now... there's nothing,

Just some dust,

Wandering in visible and invisible imaginations,

Igniting the fields of the night,

And the ashes quiver,

And the wounds continue on their way...

 

A Helpless Cry!!

 

I used to wish

To imagine your death

Like specks of clay

Drowning me in delirium

In the neck of awakening.

 

And as it happens in stories,

I saw you within the bounds of memory

And the mountains of salt

Like a cave

Asleep in its thoughts,

Deferred rituals!

 

In the midst of the vision,

I gathered my pains with open wounds

I longed

For my vocal cords

To chew on interpretations and dreams.

 

On the shores of a cloud,

The question bled

In the garment of time

And a crooked staff

Untangled the beads of your spine.

 

Your voice

Turned into shadows,

And I, the helpless one,

In the imagination of poets,

I dye my veins

With the henna of the sky.

 

I think

Of the number of drops of sweat

That constrict

On the chests of suicidal women,

A helpless cry!!

 

The Emptiness...!

 

How do you extract me from myself,

While I, like Mary,

Am crucified in the timeless?

 

I am the present

In the point of absence,

Stuck in the echo,

And my salt dissolves

In the long distance.

 

I am the wanderer

Between existence

And non-existence!!!

 

My dreams rolled

From paper tissues

Whenever I called them...

They hide in the shadow of corners.

 

The cosmetics

That piled up

In the face of the wind

Tinted indifference

In the argument of meetings

Between the pillows

And the secrets

And the stars....

 

And like all women,

I spread my hair

Above the scroll of creation,

And I ignite

My Ten Commandments

In the waiting suitcase!

 

My fingers,

Which can't contain a kiss,

Have practiced the concept of death

Since the past of love...!!

 

And since that time,

And the shadow of emptiness

Chases behind me,

Like a grave

Celebrating its impotence

After a night

Crowded with nightmares...!

 

TAGHRID BOU MERHI

 

TAGHRID BOU MERHI: She is a Lebanese poetess, writer, and translator living in Brazil. She is advisor to the International Union of Arab Intellectuals, in the Media Authority for Translation Affairs and advisor to the countries Al-Sham literary platform for literary translation. Editor of Al-Arabe Today, Rainbow, Literária Agharid, Al-Nil Walfurat, Literária and Allaylak Magazine. Fluent in Arabic (native language), French, English, Portuguese, Italian and Spanish. Her poems have been translated into more than 36 languages. She translated 14 books. Author of 15 books.