A minute’s speech

To Oujda


The heart of Oujda is of stone,
Its hands a volcano and a wind,
And has no time for speech.

***

Here life  passed me by
Here it passed
Leaving me in your weary arms
Striking the gates of silence,
O city of death,
Hoping that you open a door to dialogue
So can you spare some time for speech?

***

Your silence is exhausting
The choke became heavier
The bridge – to you – longer
So may I leave
Or can you spare
Some time
For speech?

***

You are a vertigo
With neither beginning
Nor end.
Come on stop a little while
I have a lot to say to you:
Air is all dust here
And life in you is like catching a cold.
So, could the world change tomorrow?
Could silence and gloom vanish?

***

you are a gate
opening onto another gate
A wall . . . a wall . . .
And a wall,
And I have for years
Been searching inside you
For a place
and for speech . . .

A MINUTE\'S SPEECH