Dance of Silence

رقص سکوت

The pain of silence
is not a dagger
it does not kill in an instant
it kills every instant
it is a thorn
inserted in the tenderness of the soul
it burns, vein by vein

woodland by woodland
it desiccates you
with every inhale, you do not take
your soul fractures
you break down to the depths
with each exhale
you become devoid of yourself
devoid of air
devoid of breath

you have died
you read poetry
you weave stories
you imagine
you weave blossoms into the death-shroud
and pretend to live

this is you
a figure of speech
from captivity
lips shut with all his being
begging for a caress
in need of a glance
in need of a greeting
that’s me
staring at you
bound up

and again, refusing words
suffocation under oppression
under the rubble of sounds
leaning on a throne
and a muffled voice that
plaintive
out of tune

arrives as a savior
sacrifices itself and
keeps watch
keeps watch over the oppression
keeps watch over the tears
keeps watch over sealed lips
teeth shattered by the force of anger
the echo is buried alive
the voice becomes mute once again

in love with the throne
burning for the crown
he becomes king
a king with a crown
a crown made of
anything but you

a headless lord
lips shut with all his being
in need of a glance
in need of a greeting
this inglorious glory
this bankrupt government
this dishonorable law
this gilded chain

lawful chains
shoulder to shoulder
they have stood tall
faithful to misconception
o chains of gold
o hanging ropes
upon the paper’s naked body
write in white
in charcoal color

write that I
am afflicted with the cage
am besotted with faith
I’ve forged a cage
from myself
around myself
a carpet whose warp is me
and whose weft, too
and this unequal union of me and me
against me

sings an anthem
song of freedom
without instruments and without a voice
freedom becomes a drawing on a wall
a wall that every moment
is falling down

lovingly I sew numbers
meaningless numbers
on the body of the box that turns numbers into naught
like the number of those that were killed
like the number of prisoners of war
the number of child laborers
the number of casualties caused by a mistake
or a human error
humanity is annihilated
under the weight of numbers
it begins to pant
breaths of sympathy

this ravishing serpent
is a spellbound sorcerer
in love with the throne
burning for the crown
colors the night with grief
colors the day with night
sews mouths shut and
in silence
pretends
to respect

a wall of your silence
a wall of my silence
brick by brick
stone by stone
this false edifice
that beautiful edifice

with courage on the mountaintop
someone shouts
that the voice has been hanged
the echo moans
that upon the withered body of song
they rained down bullets
and again, the voice becomes mute
the echo is buried alive
hope grows from the soil
shines for a day
cries out salvation
and we, with sewn lips
sing a lullaby,
maternally to the city

through this green land
every dandelion that passed
its mouth was sewn shut
every osprey that arrived
flew despondent into the cage
phoenix in a cage
dances
sings
cheers
falls in love
the lovemaking of captive and chains
the lovemaking of tree and ax
and this depraved surrender

wishing for hope
pleading for salvation
poetically in silence
I dance
I draw pictures
on the afflicted body of the fence
on the harsh stench of the bars
I draw
on the putrid smell of iron
I wear a mirror
take on your color
the dance of silence and
we speechless poets
Watching phoenix lying in the fire

the sun will saunter forth
will shine one day
that urgent radiance
that wingless phoenix
who washed away the fear
from the dark body of the bars
will shine one day
we’ll read stories that day
in the muted eyes of humans
stories that cannot be written with pens
words that cannot be said with words
pains that cannot be
shouted with shouts.