Under Two Suns

Ibrahim nasrallah

Whenever I catch a poem

I’ve caught a wing that takes me to the steady radiance

at the heart of the world, to the lifeblood

in the veins of all creatures.

I know now that happiness has more than one wing

and so tonight I will cross the city with my little bit of money,

with fingers that know only poems,

in search of a harp.

And I will cross the city seeking a wing

and in the morning when the sun rises,

and the world seems bigger than words,

bigger than the threads that songs

and dewy lamps overshadow,

I will search for colors

and buy paper and a paintbrush

to seek out another wing.

But what pains me is that this body slowly stiffens,

that one day I will not be able to dance ballet:

a happiness that hovers with a thousand wings.

 _______