Poetry: Walid bin Mane'
A frame weeping on the chest of wood, gaunt
From the cry of the door… until the balcony opens
A frame that resembles the features of my departed face
It spreads its light as darkness and disowns the room
Its border is blue, resembling the smile of the shore
And in its absence, the smile of a prisoner, crooked
Years it explains its existence while the horizon is barren
Years it narrates the beginning of its birth… (the anecdote)
Alone, cast upon the bank of a shallow river
It drinks its own tears and eats nothing but a letter
A forgotten frame on the chest of wood, gaunt
Beseeching the water, the sunlight, and the balcony