An Ashy Sidling Bud Poem by Naima khlifi

I was in what I was..
A seedling bud
pruned by no hand
ascending
From the rib of a Palm
which grants no belonging to her child

I was and am still a sky
for clouds
and a flesh
swaddled with handkerchiefs of outcasts
Why the star discarding us
why the palm gives a wide berth
though,
like the prophets' aureoles
gleaming
in the inner of our hearts?

I
whose blood haunted
by the Sea
And whose hands burnt
In the essence of the sun
I'm viewed as such
By the flok of bats:
A hallow statue
on an ashy Velvet Crucified
Chased.. I am
From exile to exile
Sailing without sails
in mirrors' blaze

Under a prickly pear..
shading
My soul whirling
around a lusrous dream
to take her on a flight -
To perish in the Blue Horizon light
And I.
whirling round myself..
with extinguished Lanterns' dream
For I dreamed so much
and dreams betrayed me so much
0nce I started to peel on
the word d_ r_ e_ a_ m..
like Snowflakes
feathers molt
then there was anguish
And there was ash


26 avril 2014,22: 37