Tuesday, November 14
WEDNESDAY A man wailing is not a dancing bear. —Aimé Césaire There’s death in the eyes of this newborn. I heard the baby complain about a treacherous defeat, called it the same old catastrophe. A storm in his ear says it’s raging for silence. Thunder erupts when he’s shushed. What a worsened scenario. He skipped ahead. What do you do when your destiny is predetermined? Life in this hospital laughs at us. Long is the wait. Wild is the wind. I ask if there’s a wedding going on. The nurse complained of the clouds. If I were a stupid flower, I’d wither under the rain. They asked her, What’s wrong with the flower? not What’s wrong with the rain? (Mohammed Al-Kurd)