samaelstjerne

Your eyes are a thorn in my heart.
Inflicting pain, yet I cherish that thorn
and shield it from the wind.

I sheathe it in my flesh,
I sheathe it,
protect it from night and agony,
and its wound lights the lanterns,
its tomorrow makes my present,
dearer to me than my soul.

And soon I forget, as eye meets eye,
That once, behind the doors, there were two of us.

You were my garden, and I a stranger,
knocking at the door, my heart,
for upon my heart stand firm
the door and windows, the cement and stones.

You are the other lung in my chest;
you are the sound on my lips;
you are water; you are fire.

And I have vowed
to fashion from my eyelashes a kerchief,
and upon it to embroider verses for your eyes,
and a name, when watered by a heart that dissolves in chanting,
will make the sylvan arbours grow.

I shall write a phrase more precious than honey and kisses:
‘Palestinian she was and still is’.

By the beasts of desert and forest,
but I am the exiled one behind wall and door,
shelter me in the warmth of your gaze.

Take me, wherever you are,
Take me, however you are.

Samael
Posted first in @SHllXUN
[Thursday, December 3rd, 2020. 12:57 AM.]

W/N: the thread’s origin are excerpts of Lover from Palestine, a poem by Mahmoud Darwish, rearranged accordingly to the writer’s predilection.