I scratch its surface with my fingers
Disturb its sleeping memory
Then sculpt it into mirrors

I build it with sheets of silk
And strings of a broken violin
Then shape it into a dome

I play it in D Minor like a piano concerto
I bend it, fold it
Knead it with bread

I hide it in my treasure box
Braid its rays to make a quilt
For the seasons of ice

My mother’s face
I shatter it to make lanterns
To strangers in blackout cities

I sow them
In my womb
They grow into fields of wheat

I make rosary beads from its drops
Carry it in my bags
To quench my thirst

Is where the lotus blooms
I pour it in my dark grottos
Carve it into statues

I touch it, it groans
Its gray veins shrink and bleed
Fermented smoke

Scented peonies in a garden’s fence
Broken church icons
I heal them to create a body

The distance between two heartbeats
I crucify its hours
Make an incision in its tissues

Cocoons on my fingertips turning into butterflies
Ink leaks from my pores
Embroidery on white paper

A suspended star between dream and reality
A stray gazelle
In the forest of the alphabet

– Imen Benyoub

© 2015, poem, Imen Benyoub, All rights reserved; photo, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved


One thought on “Elements

Discussion is welcome! Thank you ...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s