Birth Certificate
Is it a wounded bird? This thing that lies dying in the lap of a woman whose corpse is propped against the trunk of a giant mulberry? When its tiny wings flutter they splash her face with blood. Flies circle her gaping mouth. Her eyes are staring at hell. It wails like a human.
No, it isn바카라™t a bird. It바카라™s a cherub covered in blood. It was startled and tried to hide when it saw me. I saw a knife covered with dirt and blood. I picked it up. I held the cherub by its wings. It shivered like the branches of the tree. I severed its umbilical cord. A cry soared. I decided to rid it of its wings. I whispered:
바카라˜The heavens are no more safe than the earth.바카라™
When I placed it on the ground, it crawled away in search of its first prey.
Dismemberment
The body, or a voice impersonating it, said:
Go! As of now, you are all free.
The eyes flew far away, joining flocks of other eyes.
which had filled the sky, almost blocking the sunlight.
The lips parted company without a farewell;
One searched for a new face,
the other for a lip that would listen to its complaints.
The tired tongue sought a mute man바카라™s mouth to rest in.
The hands clapped and waved to each other as they fled.
The right leg appeared frightened and hesitant,
then rushed to catch up with the left.
The nose fell on the ground. . .
As for the heart, it kept beating alone
until a stray foot crushed it.
Afterwords
My father바카라™s warm palms shielded my ears. I could hear his blood racing in his veins. As if being chased by the bombs falling outside. My mother바카라™s lips fluttered like a terrified butterfly. She was talking to God and asking him to protect us. That바카라™s what she did during the last war. And He바카라™d listened. Her arms were clasped around my two sisters. Maybe God could not hear her this time. The bombing was so loud. After our house in Jabalya was destroyed, we hid in the UNRWA school. But the bombs followed us there too . . .
and found us.
*
Mother and father lied
We didn바카라™t stay together
I walked alone for hours
They lied
There are no angels
Just people walking
Many of them children
The teacher lied too
My wounds didn바카라™t become anemones
like that poem we learnt in school
*
Sidu didn바카라™t lie
He was there
Just as he바카라™d promised me
before he died
He is here
I found him
Leaning on his cane
Thinking of Jaffa
When he saw me
He spread his arms wide
Like an eagle
A tired eagle with a cane
We hugged
He kissed my eyes
*
바카라“Are we going back to Jaffa, sidu?
바카라“We can바카라™t
바카라“Why?
바카라“We are dead
바카라“So are we in heaven, sidu?
바카라“We are in Palestine, habibi
and Palestine is heaven
. . .
and hell
바카라“What will we do now?
바카라“We will wait
바카라“Wait for what?
바카라“For the others
. . .
to return
(Excerpted from 바카라˜Postcards from the Underworld바카라™ by Sinan Antoon, translated by Sinan Antoon; with permission from Seagull Books)
