The small elephant _ poem by : mohsen elbelasy

When I was a very small elephant with  size of an ant ,

i did not like to leave the hole and go out to the chicken schools.

I was the  wolf who trembled and claimed death,I was spitting my dreams in the pool of despair, and often I was burying myself in the sleeping blanket.

And then the light dies when the heavy hand closes the broken door , and the light of the nudist darkness breaks my head .

My thinking dominates that this is not a bed but a ship lying on a lake of blue blood ,More blue than the sun.

It was the blue blood purl  that guided me before I went to sleep .

It became a ball  and the pictures grew fierce .

My eyes took me to a hole in the cover of sleep, i  put my tongue through the hole  and look at Remote Where no father has a heavy hand to make me wake up early and melt in chicken cages .

I was putting a red plastic doll for a knight with  broken foot under my pillow,Every night I whisper in the red knight’s ear  and wondering ;
When will we get out of here?

the wind lifts us to a present without an iron name ,It brings us to the buoyancy coma without eyelids.

Here the lightning of desires is blocked and we are not allowed to hit our  Flushed heads with pictures .

What shackled my vision with the chains of pale fear was  the thinking of keeping my plastic dolls when  we run out of the floating grave .

I could every day

when a heavy hand with yellow teeth ordered me to go to the barn and force me to wear the face of the hen ….

I could …
I can …..

What can I do?

I could carry my plastic doll with me but I left it every day under the pillow swimming in the womb of sleep and voices running towards it and not answering.

I thought I’d freed her from the ship that was drowning ,

I freed her from this knotted ring around my neck.

My neck is covered with the sweat of dying .

  . Later, the years passed without color or with barren color ,

Then The ring fell and deposited at the bottom of the  Bottle of the

Civilization of  need .

And Other shackles came.

The doll smeared its Features Face .

Such as my childhood dozy  room.

but iam still when I cover myself with the cover of sleep,the bed turns into a ship and the blood is no longer blue,But the blood became ashes ,As the ships travel through the ashes, they reach the beach



Which was burned with the fuel of laziness, And the years pass as a  lame swan ,


I am  An unarmed lazy wolf .

The red knight dummy drowned  by the night  and Firewood for  the dark ,and Elephants no longer die or  born alone ,no longer exist, here is a land without elephants.

My memory is torn grass die for a sip of Drenched life .

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