Passing Through
In every visible wall there is an invisible door,
pores unknown except by god
and entrances for poetry, revelation and souls
My blind body has never passed even through sea-water
Abd had it not been for the wind, the shield of air
between the forest, purpose, and thoughts
would have been torn by a veil
I will pass by this wall
The invisible locks of the unknown
have to accept the key’s attempts
How does the presence of an absent woman
travel from Berlin to Beirut
to a quarter so crowded with the living and the dead
to a cellar built from the mud of solitude, where you live,
to your cellphone,
to your earwax,
to your ears,
to you?
And as a child who has become a prophet
the voice bears you
in his joyful arms
and this planet crosses its arms
I will pass by this wall
since “I may pass” may blunt the ridges of my key
The poet’s suspicions have not wearied