More than just a moment

There is always a moment that

passes by with its languid tempo,

freezing your soul in a mould of wax.

Unable to understand anything,

you sit like a statue of a pharaonic priest

with a pair of glasses

reciting silently the book of incantations,

which failed to preserve him from erosion

or from being exposed to people’s eyes…

It seems one never learns

before he burns his tongue, fingers and heart!

As if loneliness and horror

were not the same miserable picture

in the old apartment of the family…

So why would you sigh now in grief?

And how long would you deceive time?

Isn’t it better to fully fill your space,

and not give the chance

to any fool idea,

or mad sparrow,

or dull word

threatening your defenses

and making you feel all this weakness?

Translated by the author

published in Meena Magazine 2005

Painting by Abd El- Hady El-Gazzar