Beyond Grief
What raise highest my laughter are my tears.
Those much unpredicted tears,
ghosts from a desert,
angels of the infinite
and ropes of my childhood marionettes.
They speak to me.
They say search not for a life you fully live.
They say search not for friends swallowed long within.
They say stretch not beyond roofs beneath your feet.
Seek not mountains at your knees,
rivers in your tongue,
colours of your eyes
and tunes in your throat!
And if time is your jailor,
they say,
then we are your constant breeze for Freedom.
Those honest tears
can be honest only to my honesty,
to my surrender
and to my embracing arms.
It is Wind that takes desolate leaves
from top of trees
to dark ghettos of despair.
But it is as well Wind
that carries them to the seventh sky
and in the lap
of the first reason in heaven.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel
they say ...
and the cycle of tears and laughter
remain my chateaux and my cottage,
my rain and my desert,
my air and my chest
my bread and my salt.
There is no death and life,
only the cloak of changes
sweeping the dust of time
at our faces.
And we will but name this Life!
9th February 2011
Tunis/Fayoum
Egypt
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