Mahmoud Said Kawash

2020 / 10 / 24

Poem by: Mahmoud Said Kawash

In my exile,
I got addicted to killing time
So that I might forget the nostalgia to the past
I realized that time does not heal me from depression
Longing, sorrow and sadness

In my exile,
I sat as a hostage in the handcuffs of the past
The clock used to moan with complain
And whine with pain and suffering

In my exile,
Speech faded on my lips
I became an outsider in a strange world
Getting older and older
Time began to stab me more and more
To tie my soul
To tear me more and more
And to hang me on the hooks

In my exile,
My heart was jailed in seventy prisons
Prisons’ history did not show similar to them
Curbed my freedom and forced me to run with the joggers
Prisons’ history did not show a prisoner like me
I was imprisoned there
And there were no prisoners except me

In my exile,
I searched for those who imprisoned me
I did not find any of them
Although their voices were like thunder in my ears for years
I did not see them
Neither in the light of day
Nor in the darkness of the night
They were always sarcastically roaming around me
Sounding profoundly in my ears like an echoing voice
The bells ringing
And the needles pricking

Were they my faithful guardians´-or-my archenemies who had been imposed on me?
No matter what they were and what unfairly they could do
I stayed the phoenix of myself, which is not like the other Phoenicians
I am still and will remain so!!

Mahmoud Said Kawash
Modern Discussion