Of Rebirth and Mother Earth
Like an oak he
stands
Ploughing the
soil
Even with
wounded hands
He endured the
toil
Leaving furrows
Watering the
Earth
With blood
Plowing acres of
trees
Deeper and
deeper
Engrossed he is
With no turmoil
Suddenly
drops of rain he does sense
What can
he do but dance
Let’s
dance alone, let’s dance
Dancing
in the rain
Alleviates the pain
Where are
my Shawnees?
Oh
Maneto! I am resurrected
The Earth
is fertile
Begetting no discrimination
Here bees,
birds, pawpaws
Do celebrate
with me
We are singing
“Oh Mother Earth, emblem of Rebirth”
The invader Columbus
has to flee
White rapist is
running away
White racist is
decamping in the night
Here we belong
Here more than
one seed to sow
Grow plants grow
You, white
racist!
Be ashamed of
your atrocities
you encroached
on our rights
you are the
disposessed
Here we are
singing
“Oh Mother Earth, emblem of Rebirth”
to breathe, or
not to breathe
To breathe or not to breathe
That's the
answer
When the sun
layers
Infringe my
slumber,
Allah, I turn
to,
With solemn heart,
Secular brain
thoughts,
Apolitical
chamber
His grace, I do
remember
Eyes open,
Hands stretched,
Legs
straightened, not like cucumber
To breathe or
not to breathe
That's the
answer
When the sun
layers
Tickle my
makeup-free face
In the heart of
windy September
I crawl into the
silky bed
Made of tender
timber
Touch the bone
of my North African race
Jolt forward
At the view of
the chaste sky,
Neat breeze,
Potent scent of
amber
Amidst a crazy,
Deadly world
My lingering
trauma,
My transient insomnia,
Not yet fixed by
that psychiatric plumber,
To the question
of possible trace
Of surpassing
doomed December,
To breathe or
not to breathe
That's the
answer ...
Pregnant with Paper
They always tell her
To give birth to
a child,
They always urge
her
To bear a child,
Release it back
into the wild,
And tame the
spouse’s wobbling
Over the secret
guild.
One question
arises:
“Is it her body?
It is yes,
yes,
yes.”
The body has a
paper
A pen is there
With blue ink to
conquer the virgin womb
To carry the pale
mail parcel
By the belly bomb
Pregnant she is
with paper
Scrambled letters
she arranges,
Wavy lines she
straightens
With word comb
Needs not a male
infant in her life
Needs not to
instill feminine norms
Then Man imposes
His
Pretending His
primacy over the bees
Until that woman
is riven with strife.
Wants not months
to await the delivery day
Her words know no
boundaries, no fixed bay
They are flowing
around the globe
Wherever she
goes,
Forever Pregnant
As begetting lies
in the writer’s penned probe
the drowning youth
Before sunrise, the little Maha[1]
Woke up, fully zestful
As usual, there was nothing to taste
No slice of tabouna
The gritty dough
Kneaded by paste
Nothing to eat
Not even a seat
Not able, her face, to clean
As she’s daily seen
Not able, the hands, to wipe
No force to fetch water
Her mom used to
Fix that crooked pipe
She eventually found
The villagers’ rumours running around.
The innocent gossip
“The pipe was blocked
And the water cannot drain…”
What a dovish rumour
Just not like theirs!
She pulled her feet
Her world of words, to meet
The little escapist
Rushed, with a devastating dream
With a floody grin
The well-trodden road to life
Was as white as the cream
She never tasted as a teen,
How come she’d endured
Though she was twelve, not nineteen.
The avid dreamer was,
Singing the National hymn,
She endeavoured to be an MP
Poverty
She aspired to beat
Now she needed that seat
To beat and beat
With these muddy feet
Her heart was wet,
She could bet
It was the unwelcomed guest …
The song flowed over and over
Her soft voice sank,
Stopping the wheel of time
Of Souk El Arba
Whose mayor
Mr. Harba
Catnapped in a hammock
Swiping the little girl’s pipe dream…
[1] A Tunisian Student Maha Gadhgadhi was swept away by a flood on November 12th, 2019, at Ouled Mofda in Fernana, Jendouba.
Slavery
This is how slavery began
The day dealers sold her
On board “The Phillis” she rested
Shackled for months
In Stone forts
To be transported
To what they called
The New Land…
Along the journey, she was puzzled
On her own
No kin, no brighter skin
But bitterness of being thrown
In a mysterious world
Full of enigmas and cryptic clues
But agony of being thrown
In the arms of the unknown
With a broken shin
Pale with fear
What a dreadful atmosphere!
Heart thumping, fingers shivering
Head nodding
Look! Darkness marries loss
Once the Atlantic Masters did cross
With smothered voice
Jesus! Hear me, I beg thou
Release this flock of sheep
Squeezed we are thus
Awaken us from sleep
Zipporah, free us
So must Jethro
Where to go?
Imprisoned, enslaved mercilessly
I have been squeamish
About history of servitude
Utter subjugation, forced labour
Due time to abolish
We are Christians too
Brothers, siblings and even neighbour…
What puzzles me today
At the age of the pandemic
Is the spread of dangerous minds
And contagious policies
Infected
Defected
Not well perfected,
Step back the West’s frame
To mourn the Arab lands
To champion the kibbutzim
Behind the crooked scene,
Confirmed cases, subjected to
Celebrate ready meals,
Impulsive plans of crazy clans
With tons of champagne cups
Sweeping across the deal craft
Arabs have crossed the globe,
But,
Like a dear vulnerable deer,
Surrounded by famished
Destitute,
Cruel,
Wild Wolves,
Can’t wage
War on
Acres of
Areas …
The tale is told
The secret is unfold
Of bronze, not gold
Forever within the Normalization Deal mold
Disqualified Libyanon, Palesyem[2]
An amalgamated bouquet of treason
Has announced how our territories
Are being cheaply sold.
[1] I joined the names of five politically unstable Arab
countries: Libya, Lebanon, Palestine, Syria and Yemen.
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