Walid Khazendar

Walid Khazendar Poems

Harsh and cold
autumn holds to it our naked trees:
...

He doesn't know where
this door leads
...

The thistle has now gone to seed
rising from your hands,
...

His touch is wheat
when with tired hands he taps on our shoulders,
...

Walid Khazendar Biography

Walid Khazendar is a Palestinian poet born in Gaza in 1950. In October 1997 he was awarded the Palestine Prize for Poetry for "his achievements and aesthetic originality in the prose poem". In 1998-1999, he was Arab Writer in Residence at the NESP, Oxford University. He has published three collections of poetry.)

The Best Poem Of Walid Khazendar

Distant Light

Harsh and cold
autumn holds to it our naked trees:
If only you would free, at least, the sparrows
from the tips of your fingers
and release a smile, a small smile
from the imprisoned cry I see.
Sing! Can we sing
as if we were light, hand in hand
sheltered in shade, under a strong sun?
Will you remain, this way
stoking the fire, more beautiful than necessary, and quiet?
Darkness intensifies
and the distant light is our only consolation -
that one, which from the beginning
has, little by little, been flickering
and is now about to go out.
Come to me. Closer and closer.
I don't want to know my hand from yours.
And let's beware of sleep, lest the snow smother us.

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