Literature & Languages

  • Issue 102 / November - December 2014

    By the Pen

    Sumayya B. Sharaf

    and the deeds that are not revealed yet,
    I am an ink without pen;
    I am a pen without ink,
    both without paper.
    I am all,
    I am neither;
    I do not know
    anything other than things bestowed upon.
    By the Nun
    and whatever the pens cover,
    whatever the pens reveal

    Ink heals,
    Pen befriends.
    Paper mirrors,
    Words are interlocutor.
    They are lost indeed
    when you have no mirroring ear,
    when the mirror is gone,
    the paper torn;
    to hear
    makes the pen cry, and
    only then ink is revealed.

    O, Beloved Friend
    Fill my hands with the ink
    of your inspiring winds.
    Let my eyes, right and left, see
    All You,
    thus all.
    Did you hear what happened?
    Did you know how it happened?
    Of course you do.
    But I want to tell
    because this is what you do:
    you know, but again, the pleasure
    is to listen.
    And on my part
    it is to tell.
    I want to forget my forehead on the soil that stands before You, welcoming,
    I want to forget nothing.
    But I only become Zero
    In that moment.


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