The Eternal Custody Poem by Majid Alhydar

Like a forsaken crown prince
Crawling toward his nineties
(Who recounts the windows of his cell,
And, one by one, drops on them
Stone-made curtains,
And turns to the eternal calendar hanging on the wall
To draw some white circles
Around the dates of the annual castration)
The. “made-redundant-by-his-own-self”
Was massaging his corpse
Against the extinguished stove
And blessing the shirts that Time had never soaked
In the blood of poetry.
Meanwhile, I, the dead king,
Was, as I remember, in Paradise,
Drunken, whirled by the dialectics of the atoms,
Burning Love in a cencer made of the bones
Of my ancestors,
Practicing the rituals of Euclid
Which never restored it’s entity
Or the slumber dominating
Over the darkness of the chaos.
That’s because I understood nothing.
Because I travel like a worn-out surprise.
Because I unveil my face
In the merging blueness,
In the recurring births,
In the inchoate soul,
And in the maps that flow
Between my eyes... and the walls