He was white with red eyes
As friend was too kind
He sat on my shoulder
If I asked he came down
On my arm and my wrist
And we talked in silence
No word means many words
Muteness is richest
That day though
Came the change
I can’t talk
Sorry, wait
I can’t write
Memory poisons
Head to toe
Yes
That day I was back
In the yard I saw dad
“Your food is on the gas”
“Let me feed my pigeons
Then I’ll have.”
The cage was empty
He alone on the top
My friend with red eye
“What’s wrong? ”
I questioned then shouted
“Oh Allah”
He flew
First landed on shoulder
Then on arm
And in palm
His eyes talked
“Genocide”
He talked of bloodshed
I felt blood in the sea
Like Jesus
Vertigo
Red skies
I was ant of Rumi
On the leaf on current
Neighbors had complained:
“He comes up on the roof
In the name of pigeons
He peeks on
Us, the women”
Dad
With knife in his hand
Opened door to the cage
In that place he entered
You can guess
The rest is history
“Meat never”
I shouted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem