A Fragile Woman

Wassini al-Araj

A collection of articles, including:
Your slumber and the power of your error kill me. Your distraction and absence kill me. I am here between the magic of your fingertips before dawn opens its heart and eyes. Do you still remember, my love, or have journeys, the dewdrops of dawn, and beautiful chance encounters stolen you away? Am I still within you like the bird that pecked at joy in your palm, then flew far away so you wouldn't see its hidden sorrow? On a day like this, I awoke to the rose of the heart between your lips. I traced the lines of your face with a tremor of fear that I might ignite its fleeting life. I saw the pupils of your eyes only to read the distances, nations, and seas you had crossed with a closed heart, to land exactly where you were destined to surprise me before you stole me away. I saw you at the threshold of fear telling me what was in your heart, before you withdrew: I fear dying without ever satisfying my touch of the silk in your soul, nor of the storms of a body stolen since the first resurrection, nor of a luminous language buried by childhood in its heart, and sealed tightly for fear of wandering and oblivion. I search for you without fear, and I don't know how a lover can be the victim of a dream stolen in the heedlessness of his sorrow.