Silent Nature

The endings
when the last stranger sleeps on the house steps
or when sleep overcomes him
and the garden gate enters the shadow
and the jasmine
that appointments have exhausted
finds shelter in a space on the dovetailed glass
a space the doves seek
and also the dust
of buses crossing the bridge
 
There is no cause for fear
be who you are, kindhearted, for the stranger to see you
and for the river to have a guide
 
No cause for fear,
the songs of passersby, which the wine drapes
and the horses drink, have passed
and left in their trace the wind
and the women who endure desertion,
ancient vehicles, the earth,
the death on the roads of others,
mornings and afternoons
and the inheritors
 
And those who pray
have exceeded the Prophet’s extra prayers
they delight in the recluse mosque beneath the crescent
and nothing spreads fear
besides the evening
and a lover’s desire to be kissed by a poet in metaphor
 
The endings
where women who come out of others’ rooms
search our dreams
and suddenly, like a secret, release the breast scent into memories
and laugh in them as a saxophone
is alone with a stranger’s dream
on the edge of sleep at the Jazz club,
or when the women find, in the stranger’s heart,
the house steps
 
He used to see in his final sleep the whole truth
as it squats patiently like a wolf
and he was unconcerned
when awakened by the watchman of wishes:
 
Time is up Sir!
you can go now without worry over the night
there is no cause for fear Sir
it’s no longer possible for a stranger to die of love!

© Copyright, Ghassan Zaqtan.
All rights reserved.