By: Ahmed Al Shiekh
If only they could see…
If only they would stop looking at me as a passer-by,
and truly see my face…
They would see the clouds dwelling in my features,
and they would see love flowing from me,
calmly and without pretence,
like the water of a river that wandered for a long time before settling in my heart.
You see them there…
Scattered like grass in a field that withered before its time,
Stuck in bodies worn out by age,
Whenever they try to get up, they stumble with fatigue and apologise.
They walk with heavy steps,
And carry the shadow of sleeplessness in their eyes,
As if the night wrote its name on their eyelids and broke.
These…
who have not yet washed away the rain of sorrow,
the heat of loss dwells in their hearts,
a pain that does not cry out,
but spreads inside like a dry root in stone.
Sometimes they smile,
but deep inside them is a turbulent sea,
every wave whispering: there is no escape.
Ah… if only they would come a little closer,
just one step…
they would see that my heart is not a beating muscle,
but an open door,
a door that has forgotten how to close,
and knows nothing in this narrow world
but to give… and be patient… and forgive.
