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The Relics
Images with my wrecked shadow
Roaming in my mind,
I wander in streets of memories,
Lost and baffled,
With a spirit,
A spirit enshrouded in mist,
Invaded by sorrow and grief,
Occupied by a sea of emptiness,
Drowned,
Becoming a prey mown by nightmares.
Memory tree ingrained in my mind,
Yielding sorrowful fruit,
I writhe and mourn in agony,
O my fanatic disciples,
Lust
Aspiration
Passion
Thirst
Sorrow
Confusion
Loneliness
émigré
Emptiness
Similes
And relics,
Let me be.
I hear no reply
But the echo of her voice
Calling me
While the ghost of the cup of tea
Chasing me,
The scent of her perfume
And the smoke of her cigarettes
Emanating in my memory.
to soar to the highest region of space
Wrapping a cradle
wherein the god of poetry is reborn
instilling in me the afflatus.
Copyright © Munir Mezyed
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