Mirage

Adapted from my May 18, 2006 Arabic diary below. It was primarily written in Arabic verse, for Haya. I revised the English version using AI on October 6, 2024.

DAMASCUS –

On Baghdad Street we stood that day,
the rain weighed heavy on my coat.
I watched you with my whole being,
waiting—begging—for a note,
a mercy in the way you’d turn,
a softening I hoped to earn.

I stood there like a grieving child,
my posture steeped in quiet ache.
You smiled—
and flames of longing ate me whole,
my patience trembling at the stake.
I thought that smile was meant for me,
I thought you knew, I thought you’d see.

I left with embers in my chest,
a fire tearing through my core,
burning cradle, bed, and veil—
the past, the shelter, and the more.
I toyed with ink, I broke my lines,
scattered letters, signs, and signs.

I filled my room with incense smoke,
lived like a mystic, half-removed,
pretending silence could redeem
the hunger hope itself had brewed.
But you escaped my every rule,
stepped outside my longing’s school.

You shut all doors I’d dreamed ajar—
no mercy offered, none allowed.
You left a wound inside my heart
that would not close, would not be proud,
a gash that neither heals nor dries,
awake beneath all alibis.

I once believed I knew your name,
your shape, your depth, your hidden key—
but what I thought I understood
was only what you let me see.
I thought you were a truth to find.
You were a mirage—undefined.

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في شّارِعِ بغدادَ كنّا ..
و كان المطرُ يُثقِلُ معطفي
أرنو إليكِ بكلِّ جوارحي
أنتظرُ منكِ أنْ تَعطِفي
أقفُ كالطفلِ كئيباً
يملأُ الحزنُ موقفي
و كنتِ تبتسمينَ ..
و كانت تأكلني نيرانُ تلهّفي
و ظننتُ أنّكِ تبتسمينَ لي..
ظننتُ أنّكِ تعرفي
عدتُ .. و في قلبي لهيبٌ
يَحرقُ بي مهدي و شَرشفي
و رحتُ أعبثُ بحبري و أبعثرُ
هنا، و هناكَ أحرفي
و أملأ غرفتي دخانَ بخُورٍ ..
و أحيى كالمتصوّفِ
لكنّكِ خرجتِ عن القوانين ..
خّرجتِ عن تشوّفي
و وصدتِ كلَّ الأبوابِ أمامي
لم ترحمي، لم تنصفي
و تركتِ في قلبي جرحاً
لا ينغلق، لا ينشَفِ
ظننتُ يوماً أنّكِ .. و لكن ..
كنتِ فوق أنْ تُعرفي