Lend me a hand,

lend me a word,

a might.

Arm me with it,

so I can face TV

and democracy.

Let me have

your venom,

your pointy letters,

a sword, a word, a spear..

Hell…

A set of

long vowels and

a few consonants.

Shape it like a shoe

and let me have it

at the ready for

a certain Antony.

The silver headed foreigner

that appears on the screen

in my living room that

smiles and says,

“They have a right

to self-defense;

Our democratic brothers.

They have a right.”

I’m begging you,

this is not the time

for you and me to play

hide and seek.

I need you to halt

this project of madness

working me, because

I’ve heard it all.

I heard

death, unjustified,

terror, justified.

I even imagined

a voice on TV

crooning:

“My skin is white,

My eyes are blue

This should be enough,

To bombard you.”

I’m begging you…

It’s eerie out there,

heads under the rubble

bleeding, tight.

It’s eerie out here,

my head under the pillow

cracking…craving

a fight.

I beg of you, offer me

new words,

or wash the ones

I’ve been using.

Save me…

Given the current

state of things,

existing words

decline my work offers.

So,

I am still begging you.

Reinvent

My vocabulary.

Rearrange the alphabet

in ways

that can twist this

reality

better than

world leaders.

Doha Eluahabi 

 

Edited by Salma Kaddour