map of the journey 2 - the magic revieled

Journey II
Siwa oasis
The magic starts


(1)

Once upon the time
There were a mountain
Opposing its massive existence
To a dry salted lake.
Stars were witnesses
Of the massacre of time
Once the time trans
Formed the happy sea rock
To a giant hill of tombs
And the lively sweet river
To a bitter trace of death.
The stars are yet witnesses
Even when every thing else
remained that silent
at night.


(2)

Sitting on a bamboo chair
14 kilometer out of town
I have time
To observe how a warrior black ant
Drags a crack of biscuit
50 times its weight
To the tiny hole under
the salt bricks house.
Desert is not familiar with biscuit,
But can devour every chance
To survive.
The sun forces keep every thing
In doors,
Dry up relationships
Sucks off the veins of joy
And sticks two exclamation marks
On the front-head of humains
Reducing communication
To the sell and buy forms
Of life substance.

(3)

If my pen falls down of my hand
So this is because my whole body is shacking
For two growling dogs who are yelling at me
Moving
Through the desert
At night.
They don't know me.
All they know is that
I am a threat to the immobility of darkness
That they guard.
Things are that clear to me
As a twinkling star shacks too
Burning its battery off for the favor of a dark blue sky.
At least, despite the star, I have a bed
behind a locked door
waiting for me to collapse
to surrender
to a temporary death
were mosquitoes
as the vampires of desert nights
will dry up my blood veins
and my body will decompose
as fast
as in a salted lake.


Considering death
Considering life.
Tombs on the mountain
Salt in the lake.
Where would I prefer for my body
To express its hunt for infinity?




(4)

I broke a nail.
A nail is broken of one of my fingers
On my right hand.
By never know which layer of the mountain
Its broken while climming up bear hands.
A mosquito is whispering to my left ear
The primordial melody of violin
Voyeling up
A buzz of violence with a bite.
The night
Is zipped up in a sleeping bag
Outside the light.


(5)

A scratch of fear brings me back
To my kerosene lantern,
When the wind broke its glass bowl
My stomach fell into my feet.
I dug a hole in the sand to hide
The remained traces of a well digested
Precious life.
"Shit!" said the city street cat
To the drops of blood coming of her paws
Stepping on broken glass.

"What king of tree would let red liquid seeds
Grow in the sand?
What kind of under minerals
Will be coming up in wells?
My eyes mirrorise the full moon
As a looked for milk bowl.
Every night I see shooting stars.
But they never shoot me!"




(6)

You can see the clouds bleeding in the sun set.
So why the stars are shooting
After it is done
The murder of the potential rain?
Unless the time is going backward here
Or
In a reversal concept of existence.
"its an experience" they say.
May be I am not looking for "an"
Experience here!
I cant justify the grey after the red
The ash after the fire.
My be this is why the stars don’t shoot me
They miss me in purpose
Till I do accept
To die.


(7)

A warrior ant is running on my paper.
Is my writing that sweet?
Would you like to consume it to survive?
Don’t you know that it is my life?
Do you want to devour it too?
Well, my ink is dry now.
And now you leave.
You were after my ink ha?
Very basic ha!
Well, but dumm!
My writing means nothing to you but ink.
Yes or no?
Give me a decisive answer ya ant!
I don’t have enough life for the " I don’t knows"
In the desert battle for food.



(8)

Curiosity did not kill the city street cat yet.
Instead
In the desert
It killed an ant.
The city street cat
Just broke a nail!





(9)


Fun………………Famine
Find………………Fire
Feel……………...Fear
For……………....Fall
Fair....................Far
Fake..................Face
Fault....................Fact
Well its an
Experience they say.
Insect..............out sect
Survive............sure vive
Never mind
I am just a cat
missing one claw
would not turn me
to a dragon fly!


Masterpiece…………..Master in pieces

For the night mosquitoes violin concerto
My heart is a solo drum.

As a black cat I ask the flying musicians:
"do you like jazz?"
haha


(10)

"I don’t like when the sky face is
Suddenly covered with a white wedding veil.
The Orion is going
To get
Married to the darkness tonight
It seems.
And it seems too cold
As a relationship
In the middle of September
In oasis.
Isn’t it, growling dogs?"
Says the city street black cat
And runs away as fast as a shooting
Star!




(11)

So why exactly are you here?
To wow the miracle of growing trees
On a salted land?
Then witness them bowing humiliately
To the force of the wind?
To hear the wind blowing?
To watch that immigrating bird taking his chance
With a falling green leaf of an exotic environment?
To experience the exotic environment yourself?
To exode?

"this year they have built artificial steps on the mountain"
Says the guard of the desert land.
Horray!
Now you can go up with no effort of climming,
This is if you bear walking around it
To the opposite side
In the heat of the midday.
And if you were a tourist.



(11)

My pen dries its ink up again.
I wet it with my saliva.
14 kilometers out of Siwa city
I am
In the middle of nowhere
With nothing
But my saliva.
Somehow
There is also very short palms
temptation
I bend for food.
Very sweet dates
Very sweet
Next to the salted dry lake
Were you cant drink
But can die of sweetness
In the salt.




Hoda Hussein
Siwa oasis
September 2008.