For ‘Karim
“We used to have peace, but now we have only war.”—Halima
I will not speak of the dead for that is another matter. I will
not speak of those driven out of their homes to find shelter in
a camp fenced with strings. I will not speak of those raped at
dawn. Or of children shot in the head.
I will not speak of them.
I will not speak of the woman, round and heavy, like me who will
give birth to a child she’ll be ashamed to name. Neither will I
speak of a dozen other women, like her and a village which will
beget bastards. I will not speak of the slash—deep in my thigh,
made by a knife: a brand of ownership, the mark of a slave.
No; on such matters I’ll be silent.
Rather I’ll speak of warm fires. Of oases, dates, and night
songs. I’ll speak of things that once were.
(Excerpted from “Without a Name” a collection of poems by Val
.K., coming soon.)
Val .K. is a poet, and a nature lover. A collection of his poems
“Without a Name” will soon be published by AuthorHouse, U.S.A.
For personal contact, send mails to:
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