Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
My hands trembling, my heart quaking,
Nomadic gory clouds over the skies of Jerusalem
Shedding blood with rays of sun perpetually.
Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
Faruk Ahmed Roni
Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
My dear Shireen Abu Akleh
Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
My hands trembling, my heart quaking,
Nomadic gory clouds over the skies of Jerusalem
Shedding blood with rays of sun perpetually.
Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
The falcons flying over my head
Vultures tearing my soul apart;
The Judean Desert in strenuous intensity
The venom in the air of gunpowder,
Crimson essence floating in river Nile;
Streaming blaze on Gan Hashlosha Waterfalls!
Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
The colorful butterfly that flew in your yard flutters wings in terror,
And petals of enchanting roses fall in grief,
White pigeons scurry in desperation,
Every drop of your blood engraved on Western Wall.
There is no disparity between your blood and crucified Jesus,
I have no words that can relieve the mourning,
No tears to tranquil the sands of deserts.
Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
No place of virgin soil, I can place your exquisite corpus,
Pentagon or HaKirya
The rock tomb, limestone cave
At the Holy Sepulcher,
Abraham mosque, or
The Mount Temptation?
Shall I bury you at Matriarchs and Patriarchs?
At the Eden Garden?
Besides Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca
And Leah or Moses?
My dear sister, I am thrown off time,
Nowhere can procure fondness life;
Instead, I am drenching in your blood.
Where shall I bury you, dear Shireen Abu Akleh?
The soil is sucking all my happiness
Thousands of equestrians are flying over my chest
Their hooves shattered my ribs
Yet, I can feel your presence around beauty of ubiquitous.
We have not forgiven the assassin of Jesus,
We have not forgiven Pharaoh,
Yet, we wait for this verdict,
I don’t want to know if you are Christian, Muslim, Jew or Hindu
Neither identity and your caste, color or locus,
I only know you are a spirit of mankind.
I have no place to bury you until the judgment.
Today, I have only an urge for prayer;
Let’s millions of white feathers fly across the skies
Let peace come to the lives of millions for brotherhood.
_____________________
Faruk Ahmed Roni, hailing from Bangladesh is a poet and writer living in London. He is the founder and editor of the Global Poet and Poetry and Shikor Web Portal and Facebook Group.
