A wound that disguises itself

Yemen

Yamanat

Zaher Al-Asaad – Palestine

I sit alone
As a stranger sits in a lost homeland
On a broken chair groaning under the weight of absence

A table of heavy silence
I put unwritten confessions there
Tears without a path
And dreams shattered at the first wind

Half-open window
Light dust comes out
The sound of distant footsteps reminds me that the world continues to move

I speak to myself like an exile speaks to his shadow
I listen to it tremble like a lover listens to his heart
I blame him like a father blames his son
And I laugh with her like a child laughs at a broken toy
Then he suddenly fell silent
It’s like I feel his trembling, not his absence

Silence is a wound in disguise
Lost dreams are not a mistake
Disappointments are not a burden
Rather, they are signs that the spirit resisted and did not surrender.

The night passes slowly
He leaves his mark on the wall
At dawn he pours a blue thread
Then it fades into a light pink
As if time opened another window on life

From afar, a faint light creeps in
And I see a passerby carrying his bread
It reminds me that life is simpler than I think
And this exile is just another way back

I hear people running in the city
Towards fields that wake up to work

The light of a lamp illuminates the front of a small store
It’s like it reminds me that absence is not complete without presence
Silence is not complete without a distant sound

I approach her as a lover approaches his beloved
Don’t demand anything from her
Instead, he tells her: I am here
I won’t leave her
I’ll keep whispering in his ear
Even if silence reigns

The night passes without features
At dawn, a disguised wound is revealed
In a broken dream
Or a road without a sign
Or a laugh hanging in the air
But it still opens up space
He doesn’t know the end

Yemen