The brook of relief I write,
I sometimes dwell upon the same themes
sometimes, I conjure the same beams
and address the same sky
appealing to the same stars
begging the same clouds to weep
and wash what hurts down deep!
I write about the same albatross
the same rainbow that wanted to cross
the damp fields caged in my soul.
I also write about the hefty bird
and the crippled fowl
I write about the power of love
the ice-capped mountain
and the innocent dove.
I write and heave a sigh when the mare grows numb
and the sheep could not bray.
I write,
hardly can I remember
which verse got a reward
and which one I went into a slumber.
Hardly could recall
the titles of some poems
neither could recognize
those written in winter
and those born in Fall
I write and that's all.

© Sihem Cherif