My Great Grandfather Ii: Just Like Before Poem by Sayed Gouda

When i came home in the evening,
the house was a well,
a dwelling for the wind,
that is chained and humble.
Nothing but silence, echoes,
my great-grandfather's portrait
hanging on the wall, fragile,
from a robe weary of the crucifier
and the crucified.
My great-grandfather, i see him no more.
Kids in the neighbourhood say i am an orphan:
on one evening, my great-grandfather died.

Tonight, i'm alone at the bar,
that i may drink in the cup
images of yesterday
and forget,
that i may find guidance in the cup,
or solace.
Is a bottle of wine, even if
poured by the club dancer,
enough for me to forget
my great-grandfather?

A flame sets the woods of my heart on fire,
telling me
that his absence is a game of hide-and-seek.
He will emerge from a corner in the street
with open arms
and say: 'Come to me! Come to me! '
i will throw myself in his arms
and cry,
just like before,
and sleep in peace
one evening,
just like before!

1 November 2007