Amara Poem by Khaloud AlMuttalibi

To my city, Amara, the city of the marshes
Slumbering rafts without a pulse
Reckless roads
Out of the wombs of the tailed passages
With their perforated coats
Loose in the lifetime of the seasons
They are the stations of our stony faces
We plowed our bodies in them to grow without homelessness
Their pale desires and
Their dreaming memory of a treasure of refuse, carry us
My world
Oh the soil of my anxiety and the remnants of my mysterious pining
I will renounce all teachings except the recommendations of loitering
Brimming with the haughtiness of my tatters
And the shamelessness of my language migrating out of unchangeable
beliefs
I spit at the luxury of impure crowns
Like a poet without impersonation
As I am the rhythm of an ancient graveyard
I aim at the other side
Their white papers directed me
In the glare of noon,
At dusk
In the deceitful darkness and
In the skies of wreckage
89In the distracted lie, by the truth of annoyance and the holy shame
My world
I will slaughter your overwhelming stillness
With the hymns of the barefooted
And repair my temple
So all the girls of the palm trees prostrate for you