Layla – July 31st, 2007

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AMER Hanna Fatuhi

CHALDEAN AMERICAN & PROUD

THE TEMPLE OF SORROW

  * Amer Fatuhi *

He is certainly capable
The one who dispels all of our joys
And transforming our pleasures to ashes
He is capable
The one who plodding drunk
Like a bull who is ravaged by sexual intercourse
Proud of his large, sharp horn
his sawing teeth
and his mind, which is made fun of
by the smallest ant
This disaster shows up every day from a hole in the wall
From a pit in the ground
From a black cloud
On the television
Before the news bulletin
After the news bulletin
In the news bulletin
With his yellowish laugh
And his rusted, coppery voice
Surrounded by a flock of fierce werewolf people
Proud of his olive military uniform
The decorations and Medals that indicate
A history of blood ... Our blood
and our beloveds’
He; the fugitive who did not serve in the military
Huff him day and night, a military choir
Trumpet him, pop-poets
And opportunists out of writings and colors
Elegant Informers and reports within hyenas’ skins
Then we know
That our dreams are a shattered glass
And our refuge that gathers
Our prayers
The plea of our mothers
And our children’s laughs
And the names of our girlfriends
No more than a temporary shelter

And a temple of sorrow
a vault that collects pain
feeling sorry for the two rivers and a Palm-tree
that her chastity is violated by a hybrid
who raises slogans of papers
about borders of sponge
and waving in the air with bravery
That is nothing but dust!!

***
Yes ... He is capable
He whose heart is from ashes
and his mind of the soot
He whose thugs host us
Whenever he likes
In hotels unrated by stars
In cellars of pus
Bursting with blood, loved ones and friends
Scum made of our bodies
Stadiums, maps, and archives chronicling their Sadism
Cellars are never forgotten
Even in the moments of prompt joy
Cellars in which I left a tooth and a few nails
A burning smell
And urine
The zigzag lines of blood like a train
Fading in the corridor
Or in the Pregnant memory of bitterness
Basements with walls that have no color
Filled with Scribbles and talismans
And signs of faith, hope and love!!!
***
That Rhino is capable
the chubby nasty one
who eats his children
every morning
All afternoon
and every evening
To assassinate our joy
When he wants
East and west
Displaced our friends and relatives
To kidnap us from our beloved ones

In a blink of an eye
Like Pazuzu1
during the time of attendance
And the time of absence
To lavish the resources of the nation
On anybody and nobody
barbarians
Alliances
And swarms of flies
...
...
Oh home, what I am afraid of
Is not the death of my friends or the prolonged absence
Oh home, What I fear the most
Is: to come back
And see you have left
To the inaccessible
Where none of us
your admirers
Or that repulsive Rhino
Leaving everything behind
Baghdad and the Tigris
Your fans and friends
The tenderness of the dreaming teenagers
The Babylonian fascinating eyes
The charming Palm-trees’ forest
Just to sleep in the impossible
calm
Where there is nothing
No sound
No light
But ...
No ruin!!

1An Ancient Mesopotamian evil spirit and king of demons including the Akhazu who were in charge of collecting the souls of the dead ones before taking them to the underworld (Ardet La Da’ri).

From the Book of Poems (Iraq … Love, Death, and Beyond).



SPECIAL THANKS
Wholehearted thanks is extended to
My friends and associates who assisted with proofreading
My poems in English:

Daniel T. Ames, (Life Wins, The Temple of Sorrows, Good Morning Me, Wounding the Dark, & Fleeing Paradise)
Ira C. Houck, & Weam Namou,
(September Rain)
Salaam Mishkoor, (Shatha’s Garden, A Woman From Above, East Memoir, &
T-Wall’s City)

Amer Hanna Fatuhi