Three poems, Yousef al-Qedra

[The bird and I share a fear]

The bird and I share a fear. He doesn’t know
the meaning of the word “shell,” but he feels it.
It pierces the air, it breaks time, and beneath it,
the tiny feathers tremble. And me? I know
what is going on around me, and I pretend to
stay steady, but my heart—like his wing—
trembles at every sound. We look at each other.
He doesn’t know my language, nor do I
understand his, but we know that silence is the
language of those who have survived terror. The
bird is on my chest, as if taking refuge in my
pulse, as if I am telling it, “Don’t be afraid. We
still have breath.” We are just two little ones,
waiting for the storm to end.

[The wind does not knock]

The wind does not knock on the
worn-out fabric door; it enters
however and whenever it pleases,
startles the sleeping tree’s leaves,
and steals a thread of dust from
the light. The mud, when left
alone, grows fleeting feet. In the
square, the shadow of a cat wags
its tail at nothingness, and no one
dares to see it. My mother hid the
key in a loaf of bread. “Eat it,” she
said, “and if they ask you, say: I’m
full from captivity.”

[How many times have they ripped out your heart]

How many times have they ripped out
your heart and planted it in soil that
doesn’t know your name? How many
times have they said, “This isn’t for you,
this is for someone else,” while you gasped
like dried-up clay? You were digging in
your chest for a warm stone, for the herb
of passion, but they were there,
exchanging your arteries for threads of
smoke and carving windows in your flesh
from which emptiness peered. You weren’t
looking for a homeland; you just wanted
to sleep without being woken by your
own voice. O son of the besieged soil, like
a bone in the mouth of a wolf, no one
returns the same as they left. Our bodies
are sacks filled with deferred moans, and
the heart is a clay jar that storytellers take
turns breaking.

Yousef al-Qedra is a Palestinian poet born on June 3, 1983 in Khan Yunis, Gaza. He holds a Master’s in Literary Studies from the Institute of Arab Research and Studies in Cairo (2015), and a Bachelor’s in Arabic Language and Media from Al-Azhar University in Gaza (2005). He worked as a project coordinator for theatre groups at the Culture and Free Thought Association in Khan Yunis between 2006 and 2010. He has published several poetry collections, most notably his 2014  توارى في التأويل  and دموعها تبكي الخرائب 2011, in addition to his 2013 trilogy وردة نبتت في النار. His works have been translated into English, French, Spanish, Italian, and Persian, and he has participated in many international literary events, including the Palestinian-Spanish Forum and the Free Poetry Forum in Cairo.

Artwork: “The Last Goodbye” by Maram Ali.