Elegy for a doll without limbs
Fatima Elreda
I stroke your hair for the last time
Untangle death from these disheveled locks
I whisper in your ear:
don’t worry you’re still beautiful
I carve out the sorrow, wipe away your fallen eyelashes
And I see the sky in the blueness of these plastic eyes
I scavenge the room (what’s left of it) for your limbs
Underneath shattered dreams and pieces
Of what used to be a window
I try to salvage parts of you
I realize now that I never gave you a name
Will you ever forgive me?
Today I name you Beirut
It befits you
As the sirens die away into the dark
We hide under the night sky
I lull you to sleep, my dear
You rest in silence.
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Fatima Hanan El Reda has an MA in English Language and Literature from the Lebanese University and a BA in journalism. A lover of words and literature, she writes poetry and the occasional short story, reads voraciously, and is part of the bookstagram community. She lives in Dubai, but her heart is in Beirut.