The Truth Poem by Luljeta Lleshanaku

The truth is someone else's privilege, when a soul
Approaches, lock your door, let it pass
As the Jews did, forewarned in Egypt,
When it accosts your lips, show no mercy,
Chew it up like a piece of liver
And force it back to its warm embitterment.
If you spit it out
I will be the first to haunt you,
My prayers will isolate you more and more everyday,
They will expose your broad shoulders
Undefended like cathedrals.

So recently banished, we are always too late
To stop and ask why we are here,
Why we were born wearing but a single leaf,
The sallow swipe of a purulent potter.

We search for a clean body to lean on,
All this would be a tale of thorns
Saturated in the sunlight.
Let me touch, there is only one truth,
The one which hands gently stroke,
The others are white clouds lurking
As ever in a Turkish steam bath.

The truth is someone else's privilege. Did you not notice?
We would never have withstood
The solitude of the water
Like two ancient stone angels
On the rim of a fountain.