Sun Stroke Poem by Zakaria Mohammed

We were born of a sun stroke
of the stroke of scythe against wind
and of horn against stone

We threw our placenta to the dogs
and our soul into a pool of gloom

Like poor women we embroidered
our lips on the fabric of silence

Impure we went to the dawn prayer
to the rose
and memories of childhood

Sand is our grain
and sand is the horse's fodder

We climbed the sand gasping for breath
and worn out we came down

No evidence of our names
except an alphabet not cited in the dictionary
no evidence of our forbears
except the silence of dogs at the door

We got hitched to our shoelaces
and to the hair of eyelashes
and to the tails of comets

We crouched like dogs before the door
crouched cheerless before the rose

And the rose is the necked blood sacrifice of midday

Our flour was strewn everywhere
and despair is an iron ring on our finger

Grant us respite so we may recognize our shadows
and our hooves may grow

A giant bell hangs over our head
a persistent bell makes us lose the way

We pray to silence the great chime on the lips of our dead

Take us by the hand
and the waist
hold us below our breasts
we are kin of smoke and fire

This is our finger
wet to explore the wind
wounded by our endless questions

We fooled around with our names
and the buttonholes of our shirt
and drove prayers like filthy swans in front of us

We hitched the donkeys to children's ankles
and hitched autumn to summer
to calm down our shivers

Call us from behind our rooms
call us with a scandalous voice that would shame us bare
call us with a voice that would rip apart our wood and bamboo

Lead our prayers so we may pray beyond the bound of duty
and our souls stand erect within our bodies

The bitter colocynth seeds are our lunch
our dinner is as dry as stone
and silence flows like menstrual blood between our legs

We pray to crush our kidney stones
and pray to break the bread of our supper

No immunity for the pebble
or the rose
all lie within the range of thunder

We were born of the inversion of the lip
and the eyelash
we were born of the stroke of horn against stone.