I am a descendant of the wind, The rain is my address…
By Musa Hawamdeh
Before the idea hit against the earth
Before the smell of the clay emanates
I wandered through the snitching market
Holding the weight of my loss
Killing my soul
I am both Eve and Adam
Cain and Abel
I am the breed of the sin
and the alliance between iris and ambrosial house …
I might be here or there
I might be in the pine or in the cedar juice
I might be in the alluvial Nile or in the bed of Thames
I might be a feather in the wing of a crow
Or a buried atom from a Chinese mine
I might be an African fruit or a tree trunk in Panama
I might be the darkness that covers the North Pole
Or a sunny day over the Pacific Ocean
May be I am an ancestor of the Tartars
Or of a Roman killer …
I might be from a Jewish family
Or a Buddhist
Or a Red Indian
Or a Hindu priest …
Who can determine that the tears of the eyes won't ever change?
Or the autumn wind won't air all year long ?
Who can ascertain that the cemetery soil never dwelled in the clouds before Socrates birth?
Or assure the heat that cooked the Pharaoh's body
is not the same of which frivolled my child's face?
I might be a successor of different nations and many men
I might have Russian grandmothers or Spanish aunts
I am sure that water of life revolves through the valleys and the desires
Between silk and pantings…
Surely my language is not my body
And the birds' voices are not strange to the movement of the wind and rain
I am not the present
Nor the future
I might have been a bird that came from the Persian time…
Or a cross from Constantine era
A sword in Khalid's hand
Or a glass in Khayyam'
Who can guide me to myself?
My heart is full of the world's echo
My steps lead me to the first hearth…
I dare not curse Mars
I haven’t a desire to examine the path of Venus
I don’t have a desire to stop the magnet wind
from blowing over the bones of my ancestors…
I have a gleam from the God of War
A firebrand from Prometheus fire
I have verses of the Holy Koran
Verses of David
Hymns of Bolos
Excerpts from Buddha
Words from Abdul Bahaa
For I know nothing of the places of orbit or the sundown of creation
I began to get used to revelations
And to manifest the obvious in my mirrors…
I know all those who don’t know me:
My brother who has no relationship with me and never heard of my name
My sister from Caucasian
My aunt from Greece
And perhaps the Turks have tattooed my voice
Or the sea has tamed my savagery
A French farmer might have descended from me
Or trickery politician in Italy
I might have come from the land of Los Angeles
Or from Athena's clay
Who knows the history of my body before 2ooo years ago
Who have the roc’s egg in his hand?
Who can lead me to myself?
I may be not me
And not even you
I may be am here or there
You maybe from me whereas I am from Mars
I don’t deny my relationship with Zeus' soul
But I don’t confess that he has any blood in my veins
I am not challenging the veracity of river
I am not hiding the sea in my cupboard
For I am a descendant of the wind,
And the rain is my address…
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