Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Haviva Pedaya

THE BODY’S TRAPPED PEN QUILL

the body’s trapped pen quill
dripped not a single tear
it swallowed an entire sea with its fish
roaring and what tossed within it
was unseen
whether it was a soul or word
it was not noted
that the key was its sad essence
living in half and dead in the other
unseen was his wish
to shed himself
his name to attain
a name that would be shouted
worldwide from within the manacle

and should you say
no matter about the desert
and should you say
there is a trace of creation in existence
and the language of signs is wondrous

and so I am a person
and the dust stutters
it sometimes prays act
act for the sake of the great sea
flowing burdened
coerced
inside
the pen quill

THE BODY’S TRAPPED PEN QUILL

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THE BODY’S TRAPPED PEN QUILL

the body’s trapped pen quill
dripped not a single tear
it swallowed an entire sea with its fish
roaring and what tossed within it
was unseen
whether it was a soul or word
it was not noted
that the key was its sad essence
living in half and dead in the other
unseen was his wish
to shed himself
his name to attain
a name that would be shouted
worldwide from within the manacle

and should you say
no matter about the desert
and should you say
there is a trace of creation in existence
and the language of signs is wondrous

and so I am a person
and the dust stutters
it sometimes prays act
act for the sake of the great sea
flowing burdened
coerced
inside
the pen quill

THE BODY’S TRAPPED PEN QUILL

the body’s trapped pen quill
dripped not a single tear
it swallowed an entire sea with its fish
roaring and what tossed within it
was unseen
whether it was a soul or word
it was not noted
that the key was its sad essence
living in half and dead in the other
unseen was his wish
to shed himself
his name to attain
a name that would be shouted
worldwide from within the manacle

and should you say
no matter about the desert
and should you say
there is a trace of creation in existence
and the language of signs is wondrous

and so I am a person
and the dust stutters
it sometimes prays act
act for the sake of the great sea
flowing burdened
coerced
inside
the pen quill
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Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
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