Wounds Are Forever Poem by Sofiul Azam

for Dunya Mikhail

I thank everyone I don't love…/They don't turn my life upside down.
- "Non-military Statements" by DM

In this humorous world, we clown around things,
serious things like love, hunger and wars.
And most often pretend to know nothing

about how things go wrong, to whose profit?
Freaks and the passion's slaves you see out
there feel goddamn happy, wearing wounds as if

awarded by the Ministry for Fools. It's true
we hear them breathe noisily, cry foolishly
in happiness. Not yet poles apart, we still think

roses or marigolds are better weapons. Only
military autocrats prefer blood and rebuke us
for spending on perfumes. We still go crazy for love's

pursuits, and are almost dying to paint wounds,
to sing of their innermost metaphysics, to report
otherwise to fool all the pretending wise. We pity

those autocrats having no wounds inside, (What
I envy them most is their woundless fall on battlefields
but you mustn't take bullet-holes for wounds) but

the next time I know we are the pitiable. Fleeing
can't be the way out to our perceived Paradiso
or fighting only for the other's blood either.

Landfalls onto the incorrigible planet. As if
we were aliens. Our utterances fall short. Quite
a lot these days since…sorry we can't remember

or what's there to be worth telling you of it? Our
screams or hysterical laughter won't ever
end up into their cool sympathies, and I don't know

when our stay in between fun and seriousness ends.
Just think of those who can't stop loving even
if they sing like Elvis I won't fall in love again.


from IN LOVE WITH A GORGON (2010)