Adonis Diaries

I wore down the postman; (Apr. 23, 2010)

Political prisoners mail me: They are scared, bored, and helpless.

Small fishermen mail me: Their nests are empty and the sea dying.

Peasants and rice growers mail me:

Their stomachs are blotted and nails plugged out.

I receive mails from the disheartened

From every corner on Earth, even from wealthy and prosperous nations

They all know my address

They got wind of my top secret project:

I am gathering a damning monstrous file

On mankind sufferings, pains, and humiliation;

I am mailing this file to their merciful God.

The hungry and trampled mankind has signed up

With their cracked lips and dirty fingerprints.

I did wear down the postman and the postmaster.

The downtrodden of mankind is poor but no dumb:

He still refuses to put all his eggs in one basket.

God may turn out to be illiterate after all;

We obeyed his message anyway: Learn to read and write he warned us.

The greedy own the scaffold; we own the neck.

They wear pearls; we wear warts.

They have the day and the night; we have the bones and the skin.

They eat in the shadow; we saw and harvest at noon.

Their teeth are whiter than rice; ours are smoke stained.

Their chests are silky clean; ours dusty as execution court yards.

Their pockets are stuffed with lists of traitors and disturbers of the peace:

Ours bulge with pamphlets and remonstrance.

The greedy have windows; we are the wind and thunder.

They own ships; we are the waves and tides.

They wear fur and medals; we throw dirt and mud.

They built walls; we are the rope and ladders.

The God of the downtrodden may turn out to be illiterate.

We were highly suspicious of His qualifications:

His cultivated messages never coincided with his actions and practices.

Postmen are worn out distributing complaints

Of literate subjects out of jobs, out of subject matter;

I am hearing the ground growling.

Note: Borrowed many images from the Syrian poet and author Mohammad al Maghout.