Etel Adnan

In the dark irritation of the eyes there is a snake hiding In the exhalations of Americans there is a crumbling empire In the foul waters of the rivers there are Palestinians OUT OUT of its borders pain has a leash on its neck In the wheat stalks there are insects vaccinated against bread In the Arabian boats there are sharks shaken with laughter In the camel’s belly there are blind highways OUT OUT of TIME there is spring’s shattered hope In the deluge on our plains there are no rains but stones

When the living rot on the bodies of the dead When the combatants’ teeth become knives When words lose their meaning and become arsenic When the aggressors’ nails become claws When old friends hurry to join the carnage When the victors’ eyes become live shells When clergymen pick up the hammer and crucify When officials open the door to the enemy When the mountain peoples’ feet weigh like elephants When roses grow only in cemeteries When they eat the Palestinian’s liver before he’s even dead When the sun itself has no other purpose than being a shroud the human tide moves on . . .

Where do you want ghosts to reside? In our wakeful hours there are flowers which produce nightmares We burned continents of silence   the future of nations the breathing of the fighters got thicker   became like oxen’s there is in that breath sparkles of scorched flesh and the fainting of stars we crucify Gilgamesh on a TANK Viking II reaches Mars Imam Ali dances over a nuclear blast cursed are the clouds which repel water cursed are the Arabs who fell tall and haggard eucalyptus trees

This unfinished business of my childhood this emerald lake from my journey’s other side haunts hierarchies of heavens a palm forest fell overnight to make room for an unwanted garden ever since fevers and swellings turn me into a river the streets were steep winds were running ahead of ships . . . There was indeed the death of birds the moon had passed away. * The morning after his death pursuing him beyond his bitter end his mother came to his grave: she removed his bones out of their pattern and ditched them into mud: women came at night and claimed Rimbaud their own that night there was much thunder      it was awesome * Laurels and lilacs bloom around my head because I stood up to the sun You see     the Colorado River runs between flowered banks I repeat my journeys to seek the happiness that overcame your absence I was happy not to love you anymore until the sunset reached the East and broke my raft apart there were other rivers underground covered with dead flowers it was cold it was cold yes it was cold. * Under a combination of pain and machine-gun fire flowers disappeared they are in the same state of non-being as Emily Dickinson We the dead have conversation in our gardens about our lack of existence. * The gardener is planting blue and white flowers some angel moved in with me to flee the cold temperature on earth are rising but we wear upon us some immovable frost everyone carries his dying as a growing shadow. * I left the morning paper by the coffee cup the heat was 85 like the year and I went to the window to find that flowers had bloomed overnight to replace the bodies felled in the war the enemy had come with fire and ruse to stamp the names of the dead in the gardens of Yohmor It is not because spring is too beautiful that we’ll not write what happens in the dark. * A butterfly came to die between two stones at the foot of the Mountain the mountain shed shadows over it to cover the secret of death. *

The morning after my death we will sit in cafés but I will not be there I will not be * There was the great death of birds the moon was consumed with fire the stars were visible until noon. Green was the forest drenched with shadows the roads were serpentine A redwood tree stood alone with its lean and lit body unable to follow the cars that went by with frenzy a tree is always an immutable traveller. The moon darkened at dawn the mountain quivered with anticipation and the ocean was double-shaded: the blue of its surface with the blue of flowers mingled in horizontal water trails there was a breeze to witness the hour * The sun darkened at the fifth hour of the day the beach was covered with conversations pebbles started to pour into holes and waves came in like horses. * The moon darkened on Christmas eve angels ate lemons in illuminated churches there was a blue rug planted with stars above our heads lemonade and war news competed for our attention our breath was warmer than the hills. * There was a great slaughter of rocks   of spring leaves of creeks the stars showed fully the last king of the Mountain gave battle and got killed. We lay on the grass covered dried blood with our bodies green blades swayed between our teeth. * We went out to sea a bank of whales was heading South a young man among us a hero tried to straddle one of the sea creatures his body emerged as a muddy pool as mud we waved goodbye to his remnants happy not to have to bury him in the early hours of the day We got drunk in a barroom the small town of Fairfax had just gone to bed cherry trees were bending under the weight of their flowers: they were involved in a ceremonial dance to which no one had ever been invited. * I know flowers to be funeral companions they make poisons and venoms and eat abandoned stone walls I know flowers shine stronger than the sun their eclipse means the end of times but I love flowers for their treachery their fragile bodies grace my imagination’s avenues without their presence my mind would be an unmarked grave. * We met a great storm at sea looked back at the rocking cliffs the sand was going under black birds were leaving the storm ate friends and foes alike water turned into salt for my wounds. * Flowers end in frozen patterns artificial gardens cover the floors we get up close to midnight search with powerful lights the tiniest shrubs on the meadows A stream desperately is running to the ocean *

my house’s stairway is seized with vertigo. Matter having forsaken its laws, we land in hell, ascending to heaven. * Shadows move along ladders under the silence of ordinary things there is another silence: it belongs neither to the leaves nor to the dead with a crown of birds circling him a child is running in an abandoned house the stairway takes the measure of its own emptiness I myself am the stairway that Time has used in its funeral course wheels lift water in the gardens of Hama and come down not waiting for the river to put out the fire Here we are left with the river Seine and Paris’s poisons. I prefer gardens where linden trees get ready for a lunar voyage The stairway that separates my room from my memory whispers in my ear . . . I am not at the mercy of men since trees live in my fantasies men and trees long for fire and call for the rain I love rains which carry desires to oceans. Between one airplane and another space is disoriented stars sneak into holes and brides go naked to wells their innocence wanes under our eyes You and I are made from a worm-eaten wood The Word has sunk we are left with no cry   gesture or gaze silence to us is forbidden. We are threatened neither by life nor by death nor forced to admire the Spring I found earth-castles on the edge of the desert’s torrents I took their marble stairs but could not find my way either up or down then I understood that I was in a state of non-reason and non-madness and that the gardens of Andalusia were standing ready to die. * Two cities               Two tears Let insanity keep between its skirts legs within its black eyes the fright of my adolescence and the nocturnal walk on the hills: which hill? I mean the kingdom that a man carries in his gut when his love’s fulfilled. Two cities which are neither Beirut nor Damascus two tears: neither of alcohol nor of rain Yes there has been a truck and a blue-eyed woman from Russia —grey olive tree— I was a butterfly caught by a fire: neither the day’s not the night’s but the incandescence that radiates from the body like a receding sickness, Let tombs stay open! * The stairway which leads to my room borrows its metals from Babylon The Prophet’s Ascension had two movements we fell into whirlpools of mud and the wind followed his horse A tempest went after the sun’s steps The Prophet swam through waves of clouds a river of gold carried his vessel and away from the sun he reached Paradise a Paradise made of light. The stairway which leads to my room leads to an observatory I own two telescopes to observe stars and black holes and take mechanized stairs which advance with no advance my hair spins with sunflowers * Illegitimate is this linden tree which shakes by my door let us get ready for Hell! * Cursed be messengers tossing about water’s tranquility and building forest fences Oh that the wind go quicker than us! that we be smothered by light! This linden tree standing by my door weights heavy on my days I will finally marry it and we shall bring children condemned to terror this tree looks at me with insistence: It will be kept waiting until Time’s end.