Prayer-song

I have become one
with the chain gangs
and prison
belongs to my name –
though I belong to the best
of your creation.

Orange and black
have become threads
that weave my life
with their round articulation –
And dogs guard me
when I eat
by way of punishment.
I am a cow dung
to my people.

God, my good Lord:
I do not know which name
is suitable for me to call you
so that you can hear –
Perhaps Qamata like my ancestors did
or Jehovah as the Jews and Christians do
Maybe Allah like the Arabs do
But whatever
You are the Master of Creation.

Lord of creation again I call to you
I call for you
to help me from the demon of pain
I call for you to adorn me
with love and truth
I call for you to give me a second chance
and save me
from my wretchedness.

Oh, Allah
with these tears to you I pray
between phases of time
and trembling impassionate lips
I pray for you
to define for me the straight path
and let me not be
one of the inheritors of your wrath.
Take away the roundness
of my tongue,
and my fleeting desires for street life
‘cause I want to be next to you.
Give me time to recover
in a big space
in the free world.

I know my fellow human-beings
might not want to forgive me
but Lord
only you can forgive me –
I have tried to forgive myself
but I just come from hell and back
it seems I am wandering to nowhere.


The anger in me Lord
keeps me in chains –
and sometimes it seems hard for me
to acknowledge
the skeletons of my past
my presence has become a shadow
and future beckons me
like a laughing grave –
oh please Lord help me to survive
the agony within me.