if time was a god |  maher sabry


 

You may now
Rip off your angel wings
That weigh you down;
And borrow a devilish smile
While throwing away the halo
around your head,
Replacing it with an elegant hat.

You may
Spread your legs wide,
To grow a reproductive organ
Of which you may boast among your peers.
That stands erect like a dragon
Thirsty to swallow up their questions
Concerning your new orientation

You must then
Take part in the competition
To secure a female,
So as not to lose your masculine superiority.
And after a few skirmishes
In the fierce battle for possession,
Your opponent deals you a deep wound.
So that your blood flows like wine,
Suitable for consumption
In churches and hotel suites.

In the Flood
You might seek refuge
-From the spittle of the gods-
In a ship
Steered by a blindfolded ex-general..
And overflowing with hopes and expectations,

From behind pastel-colored waves
And rainbow embroidery
Human shadows watch you,
Their bodies greeting your gaze
While their whispers
Sing a moaning song
That deafens you

In a silent tower
You light candles to appease the gods
The priest tells you of sins
And of the criteria for prophets
And pours his commandments into your hands
Like international ideology.

Afterwards
He is distracted from your wintry confessions
Watching instead the dangling breasts
On his embroidered scaffolds.

Your angelic smile returns.
You pick up the halo you had switched off
-in your rebellion against military tradition-
Your body relaxes - in a delicious sleep-
Like a basket/receptacle for sins
While your head drops
For more slaps and more stones

In the end
You acquire human legacy
Of quick changes and transformations.
That draw fragile lines on their faces
-Extremely individual-
That grow deeper in a completely absurd process
Without your adopting an effective strategy
Against them.


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