3 minute read
Mohammed Muqbel, My Story
from Airport Road 13
يتياكح
لبقم دمحم
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My Story
Mohammed Muqbel
My story is white clouds ... and a blue sky ... My story is a home that is not my home ... My story is blind ... It is that I am one of the sons of the land who has not trodden that land ... It is that I am one of the critics of Time that Time has never heard of ... My story is empty as air my story is breathing air ... My story is titles that lack their stories ... So I can tell their stories ...
A lover and a beloved ... separated on their wedding night ... Rather, they did not meet from the beginning ... Threads of Fate bind them ... One after the other ... Knotted threads ... A lover and a beloved, separation killed their longing ...
Knowledge and a goal ... Denounced by the boy as a banner for resistance ... In clouds that were not white ... Weaving a veil for the sky ... No banner can be seen and no knowledge is sufficient ... Knowledge that is out of place ... knowledge that is outside home… and a goal without a banner ...
A name that lacks its named ... A dove whose folded wings contain nostalgia for passion ... Concrete bars prevent her welcomer ... Unable to reach him, she fell her fall ... No freedom for her, nor for her tormentor ....
A blogger without his blog ... He wrote words from the depths of oppression ... helpless ... On lines of thought ... Pure, forgotten ... Under Arabic shelves ... On top of humanistic books ...
An engraved belonging ... A boy confused about his origin and his lineage ... about his name and his self ... He found a family outside his family ...
He found his peace in his thanks and praise to God ... Every matter has an end ... Fragmented are his letters without their dots ... Lost are his beginning and end ...
My story is my truth ... It is that I feel and I write poetry ... my story is my feelings ... and my feelings are my being ... this is my story ... this is my home ... and each of us has a story ... and each of us has a home for their story ...
