Darkness long poem

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If I were a lover, I would say:
Darkness is the drops of kohl
On my arid world,
Raining from your black eyes.
But I forgot my passion in a remote year;
Blindness comes out of the pores of land,
Whenever the sun takes a catnap.

If I were an optimist, I would say:
Darkness is the exchange of perspectives,
From yonder to herein.
But I lost my optimism
In all bets,
And I’ve been hit by a shred of the black hole.


If I were a pessimist, I would say:
Darkness is the shape of my tomorrow,
And the color of what beyond the passing gates.
But I am not a pessimist;
I refill my heart with colors
Whenever a laugh blooms on a small mouth.

If I were melancholic, I would say:
I am darkness, darkness is me, and
Night is my mirror.
But I am not melancholic.
My hair got white,
Out of deep fear.

If I were a poet, I would say:
Darkness is the climbing stairs
to imagery trees and to grapes of the impossible.
But I try to stay on earth;
Winds carry me and hang me by
Eyelashes of a dreaming star.

If I were a woman, I would say:
Darkness is the DNA
Borrowed from the age of creeping on bellies.
But I am not a woman;
I do know why chastity belts
were replaced by digital shackles.


If I were a bat, I would say:
Turn the stars off at night,
So I could become the Emperor of barns.
But I am not a bat;
The shiver of things dropped down from me, and I lost my instincts, at the first mine of gold.

If I were a lantern, I would say:
I split darkness by my sword
and keep my innocence in an oil kettle.
But I am not a lantern;
Each time my candle dies down,
I go back to the brownness of my mother Africa.

If I were darkness, I would say:
Nevertheless, Cain murdered his brother
At daytime brightness.
But I am not darkness;
A crow covers my genitals,
And one sweet word illuminates my heart.

If I were a day, I would say:
Darkness is my lost daughter,
She escapes from my face, and comes home whenever I migrate.
But I am not a day;
Here I am squandered at brilliance,
And recollect myself at dusk.

If I were a sea, I would say:
The day tightens my face’s chains.
Night is my overflowing freedom.
But I am not a sea;
Thieves steal my rivers
And leave me to salt.


If I were a river, I would say:
Darkness takes off my hat, with all my garments,
And leaves me to the growling.
But I am not a river;
Each time I go backwards,
I fall down from a lofty rock.

If I were a rose, I would say:
At darkness, love postcards stop
At butterflies’ wings.
But I am not a rose;
My face gets red
Only when I witness the nudity of the world.

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Fareed K. Ghanem

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I am 58 years old, from eastern Galilee, Israel (Palestine). I studied English literature, psychology and Law at the Hebrew university (Jerusalem). In the last three years, I published three books of which is dedicated to prose poetry. You are invited to visit the Facebook page Shadows of Water, where I publish my prose poems I translate to English.
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