Laala Kashef Alghata Poems

I thought that you were my Benedick
and I, your Beatrice, that we argued
against love into love, but oh! I was wrong.
...

These words are just pressed thoughts
upon a page, fragile like crumbling leaves,
golden on the ground and vulnerable;
stepped on so easily and disregarded,
...

I write beauty like light in glass,
fleeting and unique. I want to catch
your tears and put a stop to the sadness
that threatens to envelope us
...

You talk, and I listen.
I listen to the silence
behind your words,
the way the sun licks your grave
...

If asked to draw love
I would start at the basics.
A red crayon and a big,
full heart.
...

I love like the moon can wash me
anew, like the tide can take me away.
I love like the sun will kiss my skin
golden and confuse my eyes
...

'the great advantage to being alive
(instead of undying) is not so much
that mind no more can disprove than prove
what heart may feel and soul may touch
...

Dali doesn't need us. Doesn't need
our awe or our excitement at being
amongst his pieces in London or
St Petersburg. His clocks will melt
...

My heart is heavy but empty. I'm tired
of lugging it around, of leaving it hanging
like a pendulum with the string tied
somewhere near my throat.
...

I.

Michelangelo would be afraid to paint
my portrait, if he were asked
...