Between Two Bastions
I am the guestbook pages
hundreds of people with a single name
and many languages sign.
Elegies chase after me.
I believe in the elephant, if he sings verses,
in music, when it creates itself,
in the flower of the Nile
when it isolates its soul after death,
in the storyteller, if he takes off his shoes
before lighting the funeral pyre.
I am the earth in clusters of unknown maps.
Reason in the consciousness of unconsciousness.
The smell of fingers in the knitted shawl.
The pencil in its paperless orphanage.
I am the fire-eater on death’s mount.
The dancer in the open-air festivals
of murderous sheikhs who renounce
their right to my alms.
I am the book of doubt in the Word.
The temple walls with drawings
of a thousand scenes of passion.
The tired god as he walks the streets
carrying the secrets spiders