A Strange Moon Above The Flute Maker Poem by Khaled Juma

A Strange Moon Above The Flute Maker

Rating: 5.0

'Await not that I play for you…'
Says the flute maker to the strange moon,
'I am but a flute maker'
In coffins
No tears are there
Tears stop right before caskets
If I were a disaster, I'd dwell in a book not a land.
If I were a country, I'd delay my dwellers forever.
If I were a woman, I'd clear the place of its cruelty.
If I were a gun, I'd retire, empty, to a museum.
If I were a guitar, the world would never know silence.
If I were colors, not one person would remain blind.
If I were a planet, I'd be filled with air and rivers, and I'd make a stairway for dreamers.
But I am none of these…
I sit in solitude, writing such a hallucination.
If were another…
I would not be alone.
Someday, when I turn into silver
I mean, after naught takes back its debt
And prayers take their own
Do leave me, there, between rock cracks
Do not make a necklace or a ring out of me
The demon that dwells in me
Shall bite you
And you shall never know why.

Translated from Arabic by Nida Awine

Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: philosophical
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Khaled Juma

Khaled Juma

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