Town of Malakal
For Mardukg In the town of Malakal, men eat their meals without washing their hands, wanting to bless their mothers’ food with soil from the fields. In the town of Malakal , boys beat on hollow pots, the last wiping of their sides with a piece of tortilla as holy a moment as taking the wafer in church. In the town of Malakal, women undress to keep their babies warm, stories whispered into bald heads revealed as poems decades later, when it is early. In the town of Malakal, old men cry for their fathers and mothers, tombstone ranches dotting the night moon where the pinto aromas extend beyond the bowl of the sun.
2020-04-19 19:44:53
5
0
Схожі вірші
Всі
وردةٌ قبِيحة
و مَا الّذي يجعلُ مصطلحُ الوردة قبِيحة؟ -مَا الّذي تنتظرهُ من وردةٍ واجهت ريَاح عاتية ؛ وتُربة قَاحلة و بتلَاتٍ منهَا قَد ترَاخت أرضًا ، مَا الّذي ستصبحهُ برأيك؟
55
10
2482
Why?
I was alone. I am alone. I will be alone. But why People always lie? I can't hear it Every time! And then They try to come Back. And i Don't understand it. Why?
61
4
8221