Texts of Emotion and Common Fingerprints

Texts of Emotion and Common Fingerprints

Laala Kashef Algahta

Where have the monks gone? I can’t hear
the scratch of quills in my ear. Where
are the priests that brought me the scrolls?
My eyes lie frozen on a landscape –
the ocean glitters, ripples and laughs. The sky
hurt, the clouds floated and leaked. Then poured.
It hurt, the everyday of his eyes looking at me
every time I try to glance upward at God.

Where are the nuns? Do they hide
my scrolls behind the robes? Do they embrace
the black thoroughly – should I send my black dog
to join them? Their headdresses lined with white:
purity and hope. O! Nuns – where have you hid
those scrolls? Does anyone hear the quill scratch?