Poem 024: In The Play Poem by Samer Madbak

Not much to do, nor much to say
'Tis but a mime and we must play
Where some are sires, standing tall,
And some are lieges bound to crawl
Before the masters of the stage,
And so proceeding, king and page…
But having now discerned the fact
That this is just a peevish act
I pray, Director, that my role
Be cancelled, or at least made small
Unbind me thus at prime of age
Unchain my spirit, rend her cage!
Demise is all that I demand
So proffer me your helping hand
And keep me out of such a fray
I wish, I wish to pass away!


Beirut
February 26th 1988