by Yahia Al-Samawy
The elders remember
The earth was unlimited
The water sweeter
The loaf more delicious
And the grass
Greener . . .
And the canvas and sackcloth
Were softer than the silk of today
Even the lovely girls of yesterday
Were more feminine
And the horse of yesteryear
Gave to the rein for none but her master . . .
And there were no cowards attacking out in the open
And the foreigners
Didn’t dole out starvation rations
And the heartbeat of slaves
The wolves could be satisfied with just one from the herd
Not like the wolves of today
I remember that my mother told me of houses
Without doors
She swore that a neighbour
Once lost a ewe
It returned after a whole year, with a lamb in tow
And, herding the two of them, a youth who asked the whole town
For whoever had once lost a ewe
The elders remember
People didn’t glance around if they walked in the market
Or
As they left the mihrab.
Our children will remember:
The earth is tighter than a noose in Baghdad
And the water of the Euphrates has
A taste of sickness
The neighbour dreads his neighbour
And the eyelash fears its eyelid
Last updated September 02, 2011