Psalm Three

On the day when my words
were earth...
I was a friend to stalks of wheat.

On the day when my words
were wrath
I was a friend to chains.
On the day when my words
were stones
I was a friend to streams.
On the day when my words
were a rebellion
I was a friend to earthquakes.
On the day when my words
were bitter apples
I was a friend to the optimist.
But when my words became
honey...
flies covered
my lips! ...

by Mahmoud Darwish

Comments (1)

This is very true definitely. Life is an act of memory. A brilliant poem is very well penned...10