Rainbow Martyr and other poems
Written by Ahmed Naoual
Rainbow Martyr
I almost die
When I look up at the sky
And see no rainbow there.
But if I die,
At least I die for thee, for thee.
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Primitive Me
And you trailed behind me
Like a slave; and your face,
Behind a mask of mud,
Was invisible to me.
Almost invisible to me.
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Ashes of Roses
You relegate my love
To some dark damp corner of your mind
With long-forgotten memories and
Dull and dreary things past.
You might as well burn this love with weeds
And unwanted herbs in the backyard
Of your house, and when curious neighbours
See the smoke rise up in your garden,
Tell them your love has withered and died
And had to be disposed of somehow.
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Overactive Arabs
We used to keep a low profile,
Watching the world go by.
Nice show, very showy indeed,
This western world,
You'd hear us say, nodding our heads
In appreciation-and disgust.
But we never took part;
Too busy living in our past,
Licking age-old wounds,
Whining, sometimes, in agony
And in despair,
In our little corner of the world,
Far from the festive crowds
Of the wild western world.
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grave elevations
i bury deep in my mind,
unregretfully,
all the lilies and roses,
the singing of birds,
the cries of newborn babies,
the life i have known,
lush, lavish, in bloom,
obscene,
as I lay dying or dead,
i can't tell, transported
by the elevating
powers of the grave.
ŠAhmed Naoual
