Ahmed Zaidan
Three Poems
Coma
We jumped towards the distant stars
Towards dim wondering and dark light
We jumped towards the unseen universe
Towards the opposite side of time’s whirlpool
Where and when, time spews like the vomit
Of a pregnant woman, casts off static concepts:
Time, size, dimensions and gods
In a muddy pond
Where the big bang is an unknown
Ejaculate triggered by an irresponsible being
Where the universe is semen
Where nebulas are lit placentas
And we are spermatozoa
Swimming towards the womb of beginning
In the shell of our imagination
…
I am failing in the light
I am falling in the light
my breaths extend back and forth … like tides on a warm beach of sand …
I expand more and more in the sun like metals
I expand in my love of life til I contain everything around
then, I melt like a travelling cloud
I fade away like a moment of happiness,
like a handful of the dust of the crunched gold between fingers of Princess Jasmine:
I listen to the holy hymns of birds
I pray to the trees
Praise be to you my window!
Praise be to the light that finds its way to my deep loneliness!
…
I am falling in the light
I am diving in the light
I am breathing the light
I am closing the eyes to see the bright darkness in my eyelids…
…
I wash my heart with breezes of life again…
I am a part of you, O nature,
I am beyond the window,
like any domestic plants or candle,
like a bird in a cage
I sing but don’t realise the meaning of the blue horizon…
I found myself as I am
I can’t interfere between myself and myself.
The night happens to me
The night happens to me at the brightest mornings
The night happens to me when it is already noon
The night engulfs me whenever I mention the sun
The night happens but despite all the nights that happen to me
I still enjoy the smiles of stars
I still share the moon its tales and music
I still watch the ribbons of passing nations and a poet who rides in the wagon driven by three deers
I still see all that in the silver light of the moon
as two lovers watch the reflected graphics tape in a cinema of seventies…
as two lovers stare the night of the coffee that sparks with bubbles and stars
Rain still is occurring the rhythm on the window edge
The heart is still occurring the rhythm in the body’s cage
Clock on the wall is still occurring the rhythm
Then, the wind rolls the page…
The night could happen to me anytime
For example, when I ignite three candles,
or when I carry my lantern
The night happens as any champagne being opened
Very quick … The night happens to me
Very calm, very gently, very smoothly
Like a dark fire engulfs an old novel
Editing by Andy Willoughby.
Ahmed Zaidan, born in Mosul in 1988, is a journalist and awarded poet from Iraq. He published his first book in 2009, and was forced to flee the country in 2013. Since then, Zaidan has written for newspapers, and performed his poetry in Finland.
