Or What Else Could We Do But Raise Our Hands?
after Arabesque Mortem by Reem Bassous
What of the feeling of sinking
whether in water or quicksand
when tall waves or sand storms
engulf streets, when silt, dust,
shards, erase boundaries, words
break down, and scattered letters
run wild in search of meaning
we raise our hands
when the earth shakes, when
institutions falter, whether it is
a fault line, an explosion,
or an unforgivable negligence,
when heirlooms and artworks bleed
to death, their remains floating,
when we need to start from scratch,
we raise our hands
when pine needles whisper
hopelessly trying to reach
an empathetic ear or heart
when their underground veins
shiver in inaudible speech,
when fragmented words rant,
stop conveying meaning
we raise our hands
when rivers and waterfalls
darken, suffused with harmful
dejections, debris and waste,
when tired fish no longer procreate,
when trees yearn for their
birthright, remembering their
original sap, and fruits wither
we raise our hands
when a knotted hand shivers
for lack of care and medicine
when trust is buried under deceit
when windows shatter and buildings
stand naked, when firemen are thrown
into an unfathomable abyss
we raise our hands in prayer
we raise our hands in anger
we raise our hands,
we raise our
we raise
we