Ode to Mosul

Ode to Mosul

September 6, 2016

Ahmed Zaidan

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Toss me, over there
like seeds in the air
on banks of Tigris
that flows in Mosul
Go out and see
How Mosul is free
Despite the shackles
Go out and see
How the birds are singing
On roofs of jails
On the fence like angels
When they turn to life, in
March,in the silent jungle…
They tend to be
On chimneys of sadness
And on every aged tree
Just go out and see
Just let your ears
And listen to me
Go out and fall
In every poet’s light
When he struggles to write
In the depths of a dark cellar
He believes that words will
defeat his killer.
He struggles to write …
When he weaves the light
In no morning’s night
When he turns his black
future, in a moment, to bright
When he throws himself
Like stars of hope
That loom in the sight
When he digs a hole
In the wall Of siege…

Go out
And you will know
What I am talking about
When he plays on Oud
And death is around
It’s not in his account
His fingers just dance
On the strings of hope
When he plays on Oud
And his family is around
His mother warns him
To be more quiet

The winged bull
Will come to save his people
To deploy the peace
And to crack on evil
The winged bull
Will come, this time. for sure
To retake all mills
And distribute the loaf
Equally
To cattle and every poor.
There is no longer injustice
For sure

By Ahmed Zaidan

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8 thoughts on “Ode to Mosul

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