Ghassan Zaqtan

1954 / Beit Jala / Palestine


Darkness has a hole,
with space for a hand,
black, with five fingers and an arm
Darkness owns a house,
haunted by the dead,
reburying their secrets in the bricks
Darkness kills the voices
mouthing from the stones,
choking in nettles at the bottom of the well
And a cry,
a harsh yell of protest,
rises from the dark heart of the wood
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