Old Maps -New Conquest Poem by Atef Ayadi

Some
Memories

Erupted
In drops

Each 'drop'
Is a burs

I always remind myself
To explore.

The door for conquest is always open

So, I opened the door
To explore
Each burst
Separately,
Case by case,
File by file, and
Archive by archive,
I let myself being
Driven
And taken
By one hand, or
Both,
By one foot
Or both,
By my skin,
My hear,
My neck,
My nose,
My ear,
Or entirely.

I was not in the position to choose.
I just let it take me

That is my pure desire:
I choose
The start
And never worry about the ends.