A Hymn To My Statue Poem by Majid Alhydar

One day they will build a statue
Of me, the little mortal,
Made out of stone
Or a rusted metal.
…
Let the rain wash me
I hate the showers of cold water
Out of the hands of the bored cleaner.
…
Don’t write my name!
Don’t write my birthday!
Don’t write my day of departure!
…
Don’t be angry, my dear passers-by
When I don’t receive you cheerfully.
Don’t expect me to remember
Your faces or your names;
My memory is oozing
Like a coarse sieve!
…
Under my feet
Kindle a small fire,
And let the paupers gather around.
…
I don’t want a plaza
Or a park
Or a riverside.
Nail me to the pavement
Or an abandoned turning
…
Put my hands in my pockets
Or cross them over my chest;
I don’t know what to do with them
If you left them free!
…
Put some mud on my shoes
And a pen in my shirt’s pocket,
And hang on my ribs
A handful of question marks!