By Adel Khozam.
Translated
by Mona Khozam.
We met in
the beginning of the year, and at the end of it, we will meet to fly. Two doors,
both of us, to enter towards love. Our hearts are two windows, overlooking a love
that is revealing half of his face in my face and showing all his soul in all your
soul. This happened in January. When our
fingers intertwined and when we walked towards the light until our shadows disappeared
in it. In February, wings made of bright feathers grew over our heads until it
became a cloud under our own two feet. And the moon was a ball we played with
in the sweet nights.
When March came, filled and wet by the last winter’s rain,
it did not tell us goodbye, but left laughing because we perfumed him with a
kiss of silk, and we printed on his forehead a stamp to exit from the corner.
April was nothing but a man calling us to get
into the café. So we did. And we poured the honey of the last happiness left in
the dishes of his visit. When we left, May was standing in the clothes of a
captain. He took us into the aircraft to congratulate nests of lovers just
born. And we have seen how in the midst
of the earth, how it cleanses love if it becomes pure and cleans rivers of despair.
And a woman said to us: help me, while she was running in a land empty of love,
and the sky was smiling black clouds.
Do you
remember in June, when summer bit our warmth, sitting in the balcony of rain,
and when the sun entered on us, reaching out her hand asking for some light. I remember
when the sun turned into a small mirror in your hand and your makeup turned a
different color to what looked like a resurgence of silver mixed with gold.
Hello July.
We invited him to sit next to us while we closely watched the wild flowers
open, then we hung the pendant on his chest when he left. In a moment of a professional
photographer snapshot, I and you froze standing on a remote coast in August. In
the picture, swarm birds were leaving above us, and a Ghazal was staring at us
with sleepy eyes.
Then September came and woke us in a hurry to take him into
the wedding of seasons. So we put the clown hat on his head, and we left him
between two autumns, laughing. In October, the candles bloomed on top of the
birthday cake while we danced around it. And these mad aspirations were shared
with all the shadows. On the calendar of November, we inserted a green rose.
And from the pages, we erased the days that consisted of traces of arguments and
life smiled at us from new.
Oh gorgeous December,
Why did you put the ring of hope on our fingers before you left? And why love,
your royal crown flashes on the head of each year, filling us from new in the
magical white destiny.
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