A Small Flood

A Small Flood prose poem

Photo by glen edelson

Today, streets shamelessly bathe, after they were piled by east winds, which were imported from West, North and South, since that news bulletin to which nobody gives mind.

At the hall there is a red coat, a pink boot filled up with the body of a girl child, who’d lost her babyhood before perfecting letters and national anthems. Destruction erupts in a place called Aleppo, in tune with a map designed by the engineer of decor and anarchy, while screaming from his heights: “just to your wish”. The girl child does not run, since she has dropped her legs in a barrel full of resentments. The girl, with the red coat and a jeans trouser the size of Jerry does not call for help, since her vocal cords had been sold to the merchant of ropes made of clay fibers, while her arms made of dust. She does not cry, because her tear-ducts are blocked by barriers and veiling barricades.

But today, streets bath without shame.
Here are farmers on their way to collect their frustrations, hum: remnants of trees used to keep green lips, but silence swallowed them all. There is a woman, the head of a household, wailing over an oil jar filled with echo: “the jasmine bush nearby used to hold an empty bottle of perfume, but it was smashed on the rocky hearts”. Here and there, was a piece of space in which doves used to have a fly, but air exploded over the last lost corn grain.

Here, in front of Noah’s eyes whilst sitting inside his rescue airplane, rain goes out of the myth of good and evil, which descends down roads. TV screens stare into boredom resulting from plenitude of death. Prices of blood go down in the market of supply and demand and lie. A flood of shame engulfs cities. Decorated garbage floats on cross-roads. Jellyfish gulp the remnants of jelly Commandments. In the meantime, that girl child with the pink boot, at that place which is called Aleppo, while waits to get her grade at history exam, gives up her jujube colored scarf to the flood, unties her auburn hair and spread it onto horizons.

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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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