Bad Company
Bedridden, marshy colors
words crawl like lizards
amid papers and mouths —
so much disgust for beauty
that pooled in its watery shape
and we constantly find an excuse
not to leave anything behind.
The company of naked,
authentic things is so bad.
Nude
Here in the untidiness of the room
between the dusty books
and the old people’s portraits
between the yes and the no of so many shadows
one band of motionless light
here in this position
where you undressed one night
Poll Star
To let myself be taken
by the love of the compass
myth of day was stitched onto the sky
by the joyous crucifiers
serpents and beasts shed
their height and
the black bad attire of earth and stone
when Dream wakes up and
the silent fields
open wide to the speech of leaves
I defined my steps next to the footprints
of philosophers and craftsmen, next
to ancient priests and priestesses and
I, the loner, guarded wholeness during
the moonlit nights and dark days of my people
expecting their reward on a future day
I stood like a guard against mediocrity
against banality, the second-class attitude, and
I defended the right of my people, and
I declared
I have been my people’s landmark
in the immenseness of my life
where borders don’t exist and only
the eternal ancient beauty stands
I, the loner, alone shall recant
ancient oracles, trying to guide and
console my sorrowful kin from
the Eastern evil that came to our lands
which demanded blind obedience and
rewarded the pious with the afterlife
riches, in today’s modern days when
with a click of a mouse, one speaks
to someone on the other side of the galaxy
mediocrity reigned supreme
Our Sun
This sun was mine and yours: we shared it
who suffers behind the golden silk, who dies?
One woman beating her dry breasts cried
‘Cowards
took my children and tore them to pieces
you killed them
gazing with a strange look at the fireflies at dusk
absentminded in a blind contemplation.’
The blood dried up on the hand made green
by a tree
a worrier was asleep clutching the spear that
cast some light to his side.
The sun was ours, we saw nothing behind the gold
embroidery
later on the messengers came, out of breath and dirty
mumbling unintelligent words
twenty days and nights on the barren earth with only thorns
twenty days and nights feeling the horses’ bellies
bleeding
and not a moment’s break to drink the rain water.
You said let them rest first and then they can speak,
the light dazzled you
They died saying ‘we have no time’ touching
some sunrays
you’d forgotten that none rests.
One woman cried out ‘Cowards’ like a dog in the night
sometime ago she’d have been beautiful like you
with wet mouth, alive veins under her skin
with love.
This sun was ours; you kept the whole of it
you didn’t want to follow me
and then I learned of these things behind the gold
and the silk
we have no time. The messengers spoke the truth.
excerpt
“Would you like to have a drink?”
“Thank you, Dean, a coffee would be great.”
The dean’s wife walked in, greeted Hermes politely, asked what
he would like in his coffee, and discreetly left them alone.
“Well, Hermes, I would like to get directly to the point, so let
me start by asking how you like this offer from the school. It is a great
position for a young man, don’t you think?”
“Once again, Dean, I would like to thank you. Yes, indeed, it is an
excellent position, and I am quite inclined to say yes to you, although I
still need to know a few more details before I make my decision.”
He was quite clear in his words, and the dean appreciated it.
“I see with pleasure that you like to walk on steady ground,
Hermes. I couldn’t expect anything less than that; it is a bold move
nonetheless,” the dean said as his wife came in with the coffee.
“I hope it is to your liking,” the wife said after serving Hermes.
“I’m sure it is, Madam. Thank you.”
She walked out, and the dean carried on with their conversation,
which all women usually did in this country and in others
around the globe; however, Hermes noticed certain disguised hurt,
some concealed disturbance that had occurred, perhaps lately, and
which was evident in the mannerisms of the lady. Surely it wasn’t his
issue, and he let it be at that as the Dean started,
“Things will unfold like this. You need to go abroad and specialize
in a subject of your choice for two years. The assistant of the
previous professor currently occupies the chair of economics, and
we look forward to having a new professor there.”
“You have talked to the Minister of Education, Dean?”
“Of course, and I’ve mentioned to him that I consider you the
best for this position right now.”
“Thank you so much, Dean. You mentioned last time that you
have also taken care of my expenses for two years of studies abroad.
Could you elaborate a little?”
“Don’t worry about the financial part of this, Hermes. I have
investigated every detail. The scholarship funds will be enough…
I don’t exaggerate nor do I get
surprised by the chancy. Even
when it happens sixteen, or seventeen
times over, what’s the problem?
The organization is what bothers me.
The impeccable steps in synchronized
time, the clock whirling in an invisible thread
around the axis of an unfamiliar center.
Invisible mechanisms, conspiracies, gears,
words that give birth to automatic worries
that don’t inspire true concerns in one.
Yet, which center is this?
Which axis?
And how many meters of a thread is still left?
excerpt
It’s evening in Baghdad and Ibrahim is in his study talking to Rassan about what
they have to attend to the next day. Ibrahim is not feeling his best since the morning
and wonders why. He has finished taking the new drugs, it’s not the
side-effects that are bothering him, but he has not been his regular self since this
morning. Something is bothering him and he doesn’t know what.
The week has gone by. Talal and Emily have taken another trip to Falluza,
where Talal visited his family once more as promised and met with Aesha’s
fiancée and his grandfather. Emily had the opportunity to see the condition of
his family home; Talal showed her exactly where he found the charred bodies of
his mother and father in the spring of 2004, and she now has a better
understanding of what it means to lose both parents at the same time and Talal’s
reason to hate. She knows it comes to everybody quite naturally when they get
hurt. She loves Talal dearly and loves the idea of helping him in whatever way
possible, but she doesn’t know how. She only knows she wants to stay with him
as long as it lasts, no matter what.
They don’t plan to go anywhere for the next few days unless they go with
Rassan when he goes to do his shopping for the party Ibrahim has arranged for
Wednesday. They’re to leave for Los Angeles on Friday afternoon. Most of their
time is spent relaxing in lounge chairs in the sunshine, gathering rays, as Talal
says, or getting some tan, as Emily calls it. She looks forward to showing off her
tan to Cathy when they return home. She’s already a bit brown; somewhat darker
than the day she came to Iraq. Talal has warned her several times not to stay in
the sun too long, but she doesn’t listen to him; fortunately, the sun is not as
strong this time of year.
They have had their dinner a couple of hours earlier and are sitting on the
balcony enjoying the peaceful sounds of the night which is approaching slowly
like a dark shroud, covering the plains and sand dunes one by one. A feeling of
peace takes over the whole area; this is the peace that everyone wishes for and
wants to keep for the rest of their lives.
“Well, my sweet Emily, what’s on your mind?”
“Oh Talal, this has been the most beautiful holiday of my life. It truly has
touched me in a variety of ways; it is a different world here and a different way of
life. I just cannot express it in words.”
“Then you are happy we took this trip?”
“More than happy, I’m elated. I love you so much.”
excerpt
“That may be true, but we have to be at the top of our game.
We won’t have a chance to do much training in Oklahoma City,
you know.”
“Tell you what, Joel. If you think this horse of yours needs
training by the time you get to Oklahoma City, then you are riding
the wrong horse, cowboy. This horse has every move in it
right now that it will ever need in Oklahoma City. The only question
is about your ability to draw those moves out of the
horse—how to ask for the right maneuver in the right way at the
right time. And none of that has anything to do with constant
rundowns and long slides. It is all about being in tune with your
horse. You have never seen me mad, but if you don’t take that
horse out to the pasture for a nice gentle ride, you are going to see
one very upset horsewoman. Do you understand me, Joel
Hooper?”
It was Tanya saying his full name that really got his attention.
He knew she was speaking from the heart. But he was the mature
adult here, and up until a few months ago, she was a struggling
teenage horse trainer, but he knew she was right.
“Tanya, you just amaze me. So much wisdom and so much
power in one young woman. I can’t wait to see what happens to
you when you grow up. Whatever it is, I know that it is going to
be something very special. And I am going to be able to say that I
knew Tanya way back when she was a nineteen-year-old just out
of high school.”
“Get out of here, Joel Hooper. Go ride your horse.”
And he did. Not only did he take it easy for the rest of the week
but also for the rest of the month as they prepared for the show.
Sure, there were days when he would run the patterns on the big
buckskin gelding, but even then he was only going at three-quarter
speed and saving the extra for when it was really needed.
For Tanya, it was pretty much the same: she would work hard
some days, but most days Tanya would lope a few circles with her
horse, work on something specific, like a spin or a lead change,
and then head straight for the hills.
The Flag
don’t disregard love
the crying eyes aren’t beautiful
however, don’t delay:
you’ll come back soon, won’t you?
each time I dare something
that cloud of hope comes
with white and soft rosy tricky lace.
Be serious:
it’s impossible to set the guillotine daily
slowly your hair will turn white:
white flag.
The other flag is the sign
that you give up and that the castles
tumble forever
Manolis Aligizakis 