The Storm Takes the Heart.
What does that glum sun search for in its useless
round and why does its purple body come apart
and endless discs come tumbling down from its
flaming core, followed by black birds
black and crossing over like the storm
whose eyes aglow with tears we barely glimpse, they come
out from the graves of the forefathers and make for Jordan.
“A river springs from memory
from the depths of history
a river in which millions of innocent flowers have bathed.
Give me my paper boat. Give it me
so I can sail on its waves towards the river.”
and it threw itself
down in the river’s sweep protected by its dreams
its wings white winds which glow bright over Jordan.
“Are these scattered bones my mother?
and that sinister skull my father?”
“My revolution has no banners and no admirers.
Hell its beginning. Hell its end. Its only paradise is my soul.”
“Woes, deepen your presence so
your glow illumes the singer’s face.
My desert, close your eyes so that
the storm not take your heart. Swim
over a gale of lies and accusation
whisper in your deepest part, ‘I will be a bird
and saved’ and quickly heaven will come.”
“We were a mess of tears and blood
when the angels landed fevered
settled like crows on branches
took up our flux with their long staffs
belly to back to make their minds up
to spit on us or weep.”
Young boys these heroes and will never know being full grown.
Their faces are sad.
They carry their flags passionately like these are everything
Young boys these
who deepen freedom’s course.
Veins of fire between you and I,
Veins of dawn pull me your way
out of the waters of the ocean.