Ghassan Zaqtan

Beit Jala / Palestine
Ghassan Zaqtan
Beit Jala / Palestine

Family Heirlooms

The cart:
still lurches on since grandfather fled
the boggy fields
The family:
still bang our heads on the rocks
from those fields
And the seven dead:
summon up
a jet of blood -
it churns
through the fields
soaking through dust,
through pebbles,
through feathers,
and through pollen
The dynasty:
is built
on seven just hyenas -
hordes have followed them,
pursued
by faithful ghosts,
the family commandments
like clumsy heirlooms
heavy round their necks,
charm bracelets strung
with the cart, and the family
and the red jet of blood,
while the dynasty
the heirlooms and the ghosts
all turn to dust
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: family
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