New Poetry by Tamer Kuhial

Behind the Veil

By Tamer Kuhial

Translated by Oumeima Mouelhi

 

Gaza!

Fragments of bombs hang from my throat, and

Briefly fuse with the living

So I can die a collective death

By a single bit of shrapnel, a single missile

 

I can’t hear, now, the missiles’ whispers

Which saturated me until they took me over.

Should I run away, now, from this bloody trade to an emporium,

To sew myself a white garment of musk?

 

The ceiling flows away from me—

A Molotov cocktail

Activates the fusion of my atoms with the phosphorous—

I flow away from myself, a river of ashes.

They showered peace prayers on me

And carried me in their pockets

 

I am the last button on the shirt of oblivion

When the world tore off  its robe of purity

I fell into God’s sanctuary

Until my mother grasped me

And stitched me into the sky’s gown.

Tamer Kuhial is a 23-year-old poet and artist from Gaza.

Oumeima Mouelhi is a Tunisian assistant professor. She has a PhD in English literature and is currently teaching in the KSA. She is a scholar of William Shakespeare and has published a number of articles in this field. Deeply passionate about verse, Oumeima writes French and English poetry alike and translates poems (including her own) from Arabic into English. She has published a volume of poetry titled Chapters of My Life.

من وراء حجاب 

غزة

وتعلق في حلقي الشظية

أجاور الأحياء مؤقتًا

كي أموت مع الموت الجماعي

بشظية واحدة، أو بقذيفة واحدة.

لا أسمع الآن

همهمات القذائف

تشبعتها حتى استولت علي

هل سأهربُ؟

من التجارة الدموية
إلى سوق عطارٍ

يخيط لي بدلة بيضاء من المسك؟

يسيل مني السقف

زجاجة حارقة

تفعّلُ فيّ التحام الذرات بالفسفور

فأسيل من نفسي

نهرًا من الرماد

يصلون علي صلاة السلام

ويحملونني في جيوبهم.

أنا الزرُّ الأخير في قميص النسيان

حين شق العالم رداء الطهارة عنه

وقعت في محراب الله

حتى حملتني أمي

وخاطتني برداء السماء.

تامر كحيل، 23 عام، شاعر وفنان من غزة.