The obvious is difficult To prove. Many prefer The hidden. I did, too. I listened to the trees. They had a secret Which they were about to Make known to me, And then didn’t. Summer came. Each tree On my street had its own Scheherazade. My nights Were a part of their wild Storytelling. We were Entering dark houses, More and more dark houses Hushed and abandoned. There was someone with eyes closed On the upper floors. The thought of it, and the wonder, Kept me sleepless. The truth is bald and cold, Said the woman Who always wore white. She didn’t leave her room much. The sun pointed to one or two Things that had survived The long night intact, The simplest things, Difficult in their obviousness. They made no noise. It was the kind of day People describe as “perfect.” Gods disguising themselves As black hairpins? A hand-mirror? A comb with a tooth missing? No! That wasn’t it. Just things as they are, Unblinking, lying mute In that bright light, And the trees waiting for the night.
GMT 10:04 2017 Monday ,09 January
Google Honors Native American AuthorGMT 12:25 2016 Thursday ,01 December
Scorsese and Pope Francis swap 'hidden Christians' storiesGMT 21:54 2016 Wednesday ,23 November
Film The Traveller / Le Voyageur by GhandourGMT 04:18 2016 Friday ,01 July
Hindu temple volunteer hacked to deathGMT 13:52 2016 Monday ,02 May
Rewayat Launches 12 New Novels at Abu Dhabi International Book FairGMT 13:28 2016 Saturday ,23 April
The play's the thing: Obama visits Globe on Shakespeare's 400thGMT 16:37 2016 Monday ,11 April
France bewitched by 'Bojangles', a book full of joy and tearsGMT 10:31 2016 Tuesday ,26 January
'War and Peace': BBC's sexy 'soap opera' shocks RussiansMaintained and developed by Arabs Today Group SAL.
All rights reserved to Arab Today Media Group 2021 ©
Maintained and developed by Arabs Today Group SAL.
All rights reserved to Arab Today Media Group 2021 ©
Send your comments
Your comment as a visitor