By Fatena Al-Ghorra
Belgium
I am pregnant with myself
Pregnant with my master who lies sweating in my cocoon
The details of rain when it wails on tired faces take me
To him. . . the distant one who is united with me
Broken as I am. . . Tired as I am. . . Lonely as I am
He chews on his silence with the lust of manifestation
The defeats of lovers at the crossroads of ecstasy scare him
He lives in me “come to me”
his call manifests itself and I am manifested in the raining ascent
I am full of his nearness
He takes me gracefully
I return from him a butterfly perched on an old cave
It weaved inscriptions and went to its last date
His scent inhabits my pores
It bites my passion with his sweetness
He leaves me unstrung at the first gate and keeps gazing at my virgin surprise
He who is made of pain and fire
He debunks my details according to his universal calculations
He plays a symphony to which I dance and revel
He revels too
He goes from me and enters deeper
Once
Again
A fifth time
There is still much time for him to arrive
The soul gathers its fragments and shakes itself off in his hands
Again