Yearning
Fatima Elreda
I yearn for a poem in the most brutal way
violent-morning-light-slashing-eyelids kind of way
I yearn for it so badly it escapes me
you say
wait
let it come to you
I remember when on a hot August afternoon
you saw me chasing a monarch
and you told me to be patient
don’t run after it
you waited until it perched on a leaf
let it come to you
then you extended your hand and said
here, a butterfly
I still wonder how you could bring fragility to rest on your hand
I sometimes convince myself that you held me just like that
in spite of my disquietude
because of it too
I yearn for a poem so achingly
for words and rust and rain
that I forget in my restless chase
to wait in the shade for the right moment
today I finished this poem
Can you see it?
It’s in the palm of my hand
I finally caught one
I’m afraid if I loosen my grip on the words
they might escape again
the brutal yearning subsides, unclench my fist
here you go
a poem
I hope you don’t mind its broken wings
*
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.