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.
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