1 - يَمُرُّون
يَمرُّون إلى وُجُوههم، يُغالبون ثِيابَهم وجُلُودَهم ويمرّون، ليس مِن شمسٍ فصيحةٍ ولا قمرٍ يَحُطُّ على الأكتافِ ويجعلُ نُدوبَها واضحةً، غيرَ أنهم يَحمِلونَ عُيونَهم ويَتشبَّثونَ بها لِئلّا تَسقطَ مِنهُم، فقدْ سقطتْ أشياء كثيرةٌ ولا سَبيلَ إلى قِراءتِها أو إنْشادِها يَومَ يمرون، وُجْهَتهُم ما اِدّخروهُ مِن نَظراتٍ لِمُرورٍ مُرٍّ كهذا، وأُغنِيتُهم فأسٌ لامعةٌ يَقطَعون بِها حِبالاً غَليظةً تَحزُّ حتى أَصْواتَهم، يُفَتِّتون بها حَجرَ ندمٍ لَم يَتَوقّعوا يوماً جَسامتَهُ ويَمُرُّون.
2 - خُطى تكحتُ العظامَ
ظَننّا أنّنا أَحْكمنا كُلَّ أبوابِ ونوافذِ الوقتِ، وما كانَ مُتوَقّعاً أبداً أنه سَيحفُرُ له ممرّاً واسعاً في الأعمارِ، بِكلِّ يقينٍ حَسبْنا أنّ لِجامَهُ في أَيدينا وما دارَ في بالنا أنه يَجمحُ ويتركُ حَدْواتَه اِسماً لِأجسادِنا، يترُكُها رَسماً واضحاً لِمن أرادَ أنْ يَظُنَّ..
تُرَى كَيف ذَهبَ بِنا الظنُّ حَدَّ أننا تَركْنا وُجوهَنا وجلودَنا وقلوبَنا في العراءِ وقُلنا لا عَلَيْها، كيف لم نَسمعْ خُطى الوقتِ وهيَ تكحتُ في العظامِ، كيف كُنّا هكذا جَهلةً وأُمِّيين حِيالَ رائحةِ فَروتِهِ فلَمْ نَقرأها ولم نَقرأ سطراً واحداً حتى مِن كِتابِ خَطمِه؛
فَلْنعوِ الآن ما طابَ لنا العُواءُ،
ولْنَعوِ عُواءَ المَبقُورِين مِن شِمالٍ ومن يَمِين.
3 - هذا يكفي
لَم تَسعْهم أصواتُهم، وَرأَوا أنّ نَبراتُهم قد ضاقتْ عليهم، تَنبّهُوا أنْ لَم تَبقَ لهم حشرجةٌ أو حتى بُحّة، والصراخُ الذي وضعوا فيه ما يلزمُهُم من الضّجرِ والسّأمِ والتّبرُّمِ والتي ألفوها أشياء ضروريةً ولا بُدّ مِنها لِصُنعِ رتاجٍ صلبٍ لِلأجفانِ، لَم تعدْ بهِ فُسحةٌ، تَخلّوا عن أشياء رَأوا أنّها زائدةٌ وَسَتُضيّقُ عليهم حتى هَمسَهُم، هكذا اِتّجهُوا بِكلّ هُدوءٍ صَوبَ صَمتِهم مُردِّدِين: هذا يَكْفِي هذا يكْفي.. يَكْفِي.
1 - They Pass By
They pass by on their faces, struggling with their clothes and skins as they move on, not from a clear sun nor a moon that settles on their shoulders and makes their scars visible. They carry their eyes and cling to them so they don’t fall from them, for many things have fallen, and there is no way to read or recite them on the day they pass by. Their direction is what they have saved from glances for such a bitter passage, and their song is a shining axe with which they cut thick ropes that even sever their voices, shattering a stone of regret they never expected to be so heavy, and they pass by.
2 - Steps That Scratch the Bones
We thought we had secured all the doors and windows of time, and it was never expected that it would carve out a wide passage in our lifetimes. With full certainty, we believed we held its reins in our hands, and it never crossed our minds that it would bolt and leave its hoofprints as a name for our bodies, leaving a clear mark for those who wished to think...
How did our assumptions lead us to leave our faces, skins, and hearts exposed and say it doesn’t matter? How did we not hear the steps of time as they scratched at the bones? How were we so ignorant and unlettered in the face of its scent that we did not read it, nor even read a single line from its book?
Let us now howl as much as we please,
and let us howl the howling of the buried from the left and from the right.
3 - That’s Enough
Their voices could not contain them, and they saw that their tones had become constricted. They realized that they had no more rasp or even hoarseness left, and the screams they had put forth contained their necessary boredom, weariness, and irritation, which they had come to see as essential for creating a solid barrier for their eyelids. There was no longer any space for it; they abandoned things they saw as excessive and that would constrict even their whispers. Thus, they quietly turned towards their silence, repeating: that’s enough, that’s enough... enough.