Adonis Diaries

Downgraded Gypsy; (Apr. 17, 2010)

I am a hero… Where’s my people?

I am a traitor… Where’s my scaffold?

I am a pair of shoes… Where’s my road?

I walk Downtown mixing with busy souls

I am in no hurry; the masses don’t carry me:

I am a leader and I am searching for my way.

I rest a while on the pavement; is it illegal?

I rest my eating tin plate by my side;

A learned to recognize the chimes of dimes and nickels falling in the plate

I don’t complain; I say thanks when I feel reprieve tired of my condition.

I am a downgraded gypsy who burned his caravan

Quitted my clan, lured by greed in the city.

I extend my arms feeling for a sheltered wall

What’s a clear stream to a blind deer?

What’s horizon to a caged bird?

My ears learned to screen off piercing sounds

I can’t hear the wailing of bereaved mothers

I can’t hear the howling of frenzied mobs

I hear the moaning of latent pains permeating the smog

I hear the soft whistling of permanent suffering

Converging from all directions

From far away scorched lands.

Slaves chewed off their chains:

They are nostalgic for chains smelling molding bread.

Up north terrors; down south famine;

Dusty winds are clouding the east; and crows are obscuring the western horizon.

A little girl is sitting by this modern gypsy;

She dips her left small hand in a little bag and takes out a handful of dirt;

She grabs the dirt containing a strange specimen of earth wealth;

Dirt holding half a wing of a butterfly, a decapitated bee,

Shreds of shrapnel of cluster bombs,

A whiff of blood, a stench of urine;

Concentrated dirt of fear, human degradation,

Contaminated greed of a dying earth.

No more revolutions, no drastic changes,

No activities demanding eternal God given human rights;

Mankind is on his knees, in abject humiliation

Begging pardon of his executioner

For the swiftest relief.

Note: I borrowed a few images from the late Syrian poet Mohammad al Maghout.