To throw someone a rope
inscribed with the words
time heals all wounds
is the cruelest of jokes.

The words wrap around us
like a time glass noose
strangling the chance of healing
as it pushes complacency
into our throats the same as
misplaced sentiments of sorrow
lodge under ours tears where
they cannot escape.

No.
Time most certainly does not
heal all wounds.

On the contrary,
time is the biggest advocate
of learning to live
with the pain.

I
He was intoxicated
by the scent of coffee
dancing in the morning
to his mother’s humming.
II
Then a blacksmith - his father -
taught him how to hammer
form out of chaos
in the muddle of force
and a sweaty anvil.
III
Now if he wished to see
the sunness of the sun
and the greenness of the tree
he would summon the image
of Fatma - an Arab maiden
who was once Berber,
to come write on his face
with her soothing finger:
“Salam, my anguished lover.”
IV
When green-eyed Fatma comes
the wreaths of coffee
Would come with her,
writing in the air;
and all the songs of history
would come marching too,
in battle array,
like an army dressed
in civilian clothing
for a dance in Rio.
V
Fatma’s hair –
a still cascade
of light goldness,
a tide of watery fire,
a flight motionless
of a millon birds who
sing in tongues
and laugh
to the stone unlettered
of his fidgety cenotaph.

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage, TUN

We're from two different worlds,
You and I.
I desire to reach out,
To touch you -
But my hand is swallowed
In the galaxies between us.
Your eyes are cobalt planets -
Deep emerald waves
Crashing upon their shores.
The smoke curling from your lips
Is dark, dreary:
The forsaken Milky Way.
I watch you,
And I know -
I will never close that space.
There is too much in the way,
Too much noise,
Too many opinions,
Too many disapproving, shaking heads,
And furrowed brows.
Our asymmetries are miles deep,
Coursing through
Your bloodstream,
Coursing through mine.

When I judge
I'm also ready
To be judged
Even when you
Think i don't know;
I know.

This might take
A while to sink in
For I have been
Living; believing–

Listening to you.
Loving you.
Caring;
But no more!

**© Ali Qureshi