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Nov 2011
To take you and place you, raised.
You are the dawn.
You take with one hand.
I pry the other hand open and find it empty.
You are to be praised, for your creator’s sake.
Your mistakes, His perfections, sacrilegious.
Bring me towards Him so that I may pray for you to come towards me.
My eyes are closed. And I stumble on words, but not yours.
Distances. I’ve never been enough.
Legs not long enough. Arms not strong enough.
I couldn’t lift you up and I couldn’t let you go.
Regardless, you are to be praised, to be raised. Exalted.
My death is on standby. My calling is mute, mum, moot.

L’amour est un oiseau rebelle.
Written by
Razan M
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