The Stalk Bows Poem by Ahmed Matar

I am made from dust and water
Take your precautions, passersby
Your footsteps fall on my body
And my silence is generosity
Because dust is the seed of eternity
And footsteps are ephemeral
But if you cage the air in my chest
Ask the earth about the beginning of the earthquake
Ask the conscience of winter about my madness
I am the burdened cloud,
Which when it weeps
Sends lightning with its tears
Yes, I bow, so bear witness to my valiant humiliation
For the sun does not bow except to reach the heart of the sky
Nor does the wheat stalk bow
If it is not burdened
But in the hour of its bowing
It hides the seeds of its survival
Concealing in the earth's womb a coming revolution.
Yes, I bow under the sword of oppression
But my silence is deafening
And my humiliation is pride
Because I exaggerate in bowing
To plant the bomb