A HAWK IN THE WIND Fadhil al-Azzawi Evening falling. A city mourning. Barbed wires. From the beach a confused hawk flying high into the wind. A wide flatland, greenish with grass, stretching to the horizon, stopped short by the sea. On the beach, we see three baby dinosaurs playing peacefully. In the sky, jet fighters head towards me. In the foreground, a clown all dressed up, with a painted face, plays football with three plastic dolls. A high wall, up to my shoulder, crumbling away and darkened with the scars of time. From behind it, a man with an animal head, blotched with red inside blue spots, gazes at us. There, under the wall, is a guitar covered with ants. Oh, how white is the rock, except for the algae covering its surface! Oh, how happy are nations, except for the blood writing their histories! Oh, how vital is the king, except for the death lying in his heart! * Qur’an, Sura “The Poets”, Verse 88
Posted on: Thu, 04 Jul 2013 22:26:20 +0000
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