Poetry (English)

In The Yards

If purity, serenity, peace were a face,
What visage would all the brushes paint?
A little girl smiling,
At the edge of forests
Or a lady at the horizon,
Rising with the sun or the
Old woman with wrinkled face, who
Sits in the backyard with her grandson,
Telling him to feed the birds
When she will be no more.

Purity, Serenity, Peace.
Peace. Peace.
Close your eyes for a moment,
Forget where you are
And imagine a white cloud –
Hanging there, there, up there –
Far away from your reach,
But still you raise your hands
And stand taller on your feet,
Try to catch it, touch it.

The little girl, the lady,
The wrinkled old woman.
Are they three or one?
Who knows! Who knows…
But, all eyes stop to see the cloud
Which floats so high, so heavenly.
All eyes witness the sunrise
At the horizon, so heavenly
And birds chirp each dawn,
In the yards.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit