Should I Apologize?

For me

it has always been sirens,

and I've learned to scream

because my lover

was thunder.

 

Ever since I learned what it was to sacrifice

I am a fragile cult of roses

but blessed by the shoulders of a vine to lean on,

yet the wind

always finds a way to breathe through me

to shake me,

to break me

then make me

of whispers again . . .

until I learn to scream . . . again

but on the nights,

where my silent cries

are heard

where life

gets so absurd

and I become envious of a preyed bird

for only it flies, and I don't

I am often asked to apologize.

 

Should I apologize

for looking the sun straight in the eye

and still not crying?

 

Should I apologize

because I give you darkness

so you could see me gleam and shine?

 

Must I apologize

because I am made of stars,

but yet it's always daylight?

 

Should I apologize

because my heart refuses to stop beating,

and I cannot execute a thought of my reckless mind?

 

Shall I apologize

for your blind -or blinded-

mind and eye?

 

I don't know.

 

But still,

as I display my thorn-wrapped soul and wounds

to the healing sky,

I can see your tired eye

staring from a hole

in your gloomy cloud of a homeland

staring at the tall, tall legs

of my wandering mind,

with jealousy, contempt and a sigh

that assures me:

you haven't won . . .

either.

 

by Mohammed El-Kurd