Sometimes we run restless




We live present.
 
سلاما على من تطرقوا الموت وعادوا أطيافاً
 
We know it.
 
                   and in the rush,       we lament
 
fugitively                    against your
                                                 edgings
 
*
 
Today I saw ghost-ling trees
 
and they spoke so vividly through the fog
 
on roots    
            and groundings
 
The archons come
                     to                 claim  
 
but the roots are too stubborn that only water can go through
 
to ground
                                                                        our  re/turn 
 
to visions of living    far from us that      
 
                         claim our anger (we rejoice in anger)
 
and the feel-s of it rush too much
 
             like lavender or
 
          cardamom pods deep soaked in water…

*
 
                         We live present.
 
سلاما على من تطرقوا الموت وعادوا أطيافاً
 
We know it.
 
                   and in the rush,       we lament
 
fugitively                    against your
                                                    edgings
 
 
 
 
Continue reading “Two poems by Shaimaa Abdelkarim” →