Birds May Dance From Pain
By Rasha Mansour
“My luck is so bad that if I
bought a cemetery
people would stop dying.”
How it`s difficult to play with the sky.
While trying to capture life, life is smiling.
I am a mother to only one son
in a society of Aisha, Sameha, Zeinab
who never care if I am alive.
They dig into my pain to find out which spouse is fruitless,
It`s my “IVF”,
but the doctors’ art
who receive their cash
to tell me that:
I am the antique lamp with no light.
The tragedy is only
what we let die inside us
while we are alive . . .