Between Two Bastions
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 already revealed.