samaelstjerne

Your eyes are a thorn in my heart. Inflicting pain, yet I cherish that thorn and shield it from the wind.

I sheathe it in my flesh, I sheathe it, protect it from night and agony, and its wound lights the lanterns, its tomorrow makes my present, dearer to me than my soul.

And soon I forget, as eye meets eye, That once, behind the doors, there were two of us.

You were my garden, and I a stranger, knocking at the door, my heart, for upon my heart stand firm the door and windows, the cement and stones.

You are the other lung in my chest; you are the sound on my lips; you are water; you are fire.

And I have vowed to fashion from my eyelashes a kerchief, and upon it to embroider verses for your eyes, and a name, when watered by a heart that dissolves in chanting, will make the sylvan arbours grow.

I shall write a phrase more precious than honey and kisses: ‘Palestinian she was and still is’.

By the beasts of desert and forest, but I am the exiled one behind wall and door, shelter me in the warmth of your gaze.

Take me, wherever you are, Take me, however you are.

Samael Posted first in @SHllXUN [Thursday, December 3rd, 2020. 12:57 AM.]

W/N: the thread’s origin are excerpts of Lover from Palestine, a poem by Mahmoud Darwish, rearranged accordingly to the writer’s predilection.