Khaloud Al-Muttalibi
There Were No Consoling Words
The ceiling grew high enough to hang
its self-harming star, creating
the shapes of far deeper scars
The questions froze or scuttled away
to ward off other questions that
were lashing out
Whatever consoling words were said
turned into ash
Overfond of Flying
The radiance of their feathers is
the only truth; and when overhead
the reflections of it can be seen
in the rivers' waters
At all seasons, in summer or winter,
the eagles race over the cities’ fields,
and keep vigil over the ancient towns
and the green cedar trees
When the savage hurricane swells
and slaps with its cluster of burning sand,
the oldest bones of earth, the eagles
amass to pluck it all back
and carve a path
for the women of Bint Jbeil,
who, with their rice and rose
petal hands, flank the streets
to watch with pride,
the convocation of eagles rise
to their great altitude and soar
beyond the southern district,
far off Lebanon
Khaloud Al-Muttalibi is a poet and translator. She resides in the United Kingdom. Her poetry
has been published internationally by various magazines and journals, including After the Pause, The
Glasgow Review of Books, Dying Dahlia Review and Poetry24. She enjoys charcoal drawing, reading and
watching classic British comedy.
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