Bring my son back from death


She stood with dust on her hands
In the midst of that shop
Inflated with bored bodies
And said deadly words:
- Bring my son back from death!!

Laughters disgusted with them selves,
Words sliced with hatred
Flew out of those people's jaws
Ripped her ears unfearfully!!
Her fingers flicking off their looks,
She stood before them defiacing:
- It's you who betrayed my son.
It's you who stole my son.
It's you who killed my son.
Bring my son back from death.

- Nothing to do with her, don't answer.
Her dress is patched with mud.
Her body is sweating demands
Which will never be fulfilled.

- She's crazy.
Death is obvious in her eyes!!
Her hands dust is scary
It might blind us,
Throw us in seas
Engraved by her voice!!

- Crazy?!
My craziness is right
Is a candle turning into torches
To burn their infamy dens
In which dimness they’re refuging
which is making their mouths odour worse
And pouring their poison out in our casks.

- Crazy?
.. My craziness is a revolution
Plowing, Planting, watering tomorrow
Change it..
Make it a feast
Its swings delights at kids
Missed the joy's shrill
Missed the ring and the vale
The daily school's bag
Scented with oregano pastry.

- Crazy?
.. My craziness is a tale
That revolutionists took as a beginning
To the liberty's dawn that bloomed
And its flowers are continually bloomed
On the solid wrist arteries
Which built the orphans shelters
Decorated it with wind flags
Become to victory a swing.

- They all, all killed my son
Who never exhausted me.
Whom I raised happily,
Pouring songs in his ears
While he smiles to me,
Brush my hair
And extends with his laughters my life.
For his eyes that will never wilt
I'll never let their life extend.

- read more..

هناك 3 تعليقات:

  1. غير معرف11:59 ص


  2. غير معرف11:43 ص

    Your poems always bring tears to my eyes

  3. غير معرف9:30 ص

    I can't read Arabic, Charbel, but I always enjoy your english poems.
    My husband and I both agree you are an excellent writer.