Poetry |

“Or Can’t You See How They All Stare At Us Even the Birds Resting on Their Hands?”

Or Can’t You See How They All Stare At Us Even the Birds Resting on Their Hands?

a pantoum, after The Immigrants’ Boat by Marilene Sawaf

 

 

Packed against one another clothed in dreams

Upholding the flame of freedom for a mast

See how multicolored fish leap out around the hull

In quieted waters silvery fins quiver awaiting a net

 

Upholding the flame of freedom for a mast

Past and future fit into the wooden vessel

In quieted waters silvery fins quiver awaiting a net

While they rest under the shade of pregnant trees

 

Past and future fit into the wooden vessel

They are wearing Sunday clothes yet to be sewn

While they rest under the shade of pregnant trees

They sample ripened pomegranates and pink peaches

 

They are wearing Sunday clothes yet to be sewn

After fighting maddened waves for so long

They sample ripened pomegranates and pink peaches

They’ve slipped through the eye of a needle

 

After fighting maddened waves for so long

How sweet it is to emerge unscathed in extremis

They’ve slipped through the eye of a needle

Reaching a place where the wind is silent

 

How sweet it is to emerge unscathed in extremis

Future wraps itself around them in a colorful mantle

Reaching a place where the wind is silent

The cat slumbers as the restless dog rushes to the rooftop

 

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