Khaled Mattawa

Khaled Mattawa Poems

The radio blares "Dialogue of Souls,"
and the woman who hated clouds
watches the sky.
...

Look here, Marcus Aurelius, we've come to see
your temple, deluded the guards, crawled through a hole
in the fence. Why your descendent, my guide and friend
...

Evening coffee, and my mother salts
her evening broth—not equanimity,
but the nick of her wrist—
...

Khaled Mattawa Biography

Khaled Mattawa (born 1964) is a Libyan poet, and a renowned Arab-American writer, he is also a leading literary translator, focusing on translating Arabic poetry into English. He works as an Assistant professor of creative writing at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA, where he currently lives and writes.)

The Best Poem Of Khaled Mattawa

Rain Song

The radio blares "Dialogue of Souls,"
and the woman who hated clouds
watches the sky.
Where is the sea now? she asks.
Where is it from here?
What is its name?—
this rain on a morning ride to school,
winter, my seventh year,
my father driving
through rain, his eyes fixed on a world
of credit and debt. On the
radio, devotion to
the lifter of harm from those who despair,
knower of secrets with the knowledge of certainty.
Not even the anguish of those
years, the heavy
traffic, cold and wind could have
touched me. I was certain the palm
holding me would be
struck again. Chance allows
for that and for stars to throb
in reachable depths.
Filled with grief bordering happiness,
I didn't care if I was safe,
whether the storm
was over, only that it came, the slash
of lightning, the groaning sky,
and the storms we made,
how rain stripped everything of urgency,
how to the lifter of harm rise
those who despair.

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