The Silence

Raghda Mouazen, Syria                   

A gentle beat of emptiness is heard

Among the hush that dominates all

But my ears are full of echoes,

A sharp arrow would fall

Over the heart that’s full of scars.

Arrows of hollowness they are,

Of the everlasting silence they are,

Of the hopeful heart and hopeless scar,

Of the soulless dumpness they are

And I weep, weep, weep

Till I see only blur.

A breath weighs a ton over my chest

Packed with trivial harsh memories

With senseless words of senseless beings

Aiming their arrows well for braggings

And they ache, ache, ache

With every breath and they are many!

Blood is dried and it turned snow white

No soul to break this silence, silence, silence

And replace those worthless arrows

With roses red and echoes of fluffy words.

Oh the noisy silence is the loudest, I say

But still, with hope it lulls

And I sleep on the lulls of an idle heart.

Dark Ocean    

Raghda Mouazen, Syria                         

Diving down into the deep

To lay some of the ocean’s weight,

I pick up poisounous, pale clouds

From the moonless, starless

Night like darkness.

Breathless with heaviness,

The surface I reach.

Similar souls I offer a cloud each

For I wish them not to decay.

They leave with relief

Unaware of my grief.

Heaviness still lays

Upon my deep.

Sore Jewels

Raghda Mouazen, Syria               

Wearing her man’s gifts,
The red, blue and yellow jewels,
She walks among the wondering eyes,
Hiding them all except the gray diamond ring
But the pearls he adores
And for him preserved
For the fatal reunion
When his gifts are fearfully received
From his merciless ‎monstrous hands.

A Woman’s Reflection

Raghda Mouazen, Syria            

In a mirror she looked
Frozen locks on her head
With a colorless crown
Dark brown eyes filled
With utter hollowness.

No wrinkles were visible
They only dominated the unseen part
Of her thin body
And most of her heart.

Pure white lilies she held
Watered nearly everyday.
Withered trumpet vines
Grew heavy all over her body.

Closed her eyes to flee
But pain conquered
And seized her dreams,
Leaving her bewildered.

Her voice may save her
But the sobs took over
And it would only tremble.
Again, there was no anchor.

A veil over what was left
Of her colorful hair
Cruelly stripped their color
Still, they think it is completely fair.

She had to accept it with palor
For in the end it was a gift
From her trustful amor.
It was a curse no one could lift.

Misty existence

Raghda Mouazen, Syria                

Cold white walls

Could hear a thought of vengence,

Conquering me.

A warm breath,

Various expressions,

Colour, I need.

I have waited decades

For them to decay.

On ruins I behold

Greenless, soundless, sunless being,