Falling Of Letters

by: Soran Mohammed

.

Sentences are not

in conjunction

beginnings and endings

mixed

like the Bohemian story of a refugee-

without home, without friends.

.

The fortune teller said: 

look to the future, 

Tuesday is your lucky day.

The poet said: 

Those nights –

when you recognised the villages

by the barking and the smoking fires

perhaps you were there.

.

Sentences were separated

like parts of a shipwreck

or the doubtful glances of elderly women.

The words had been cut to some different sound –

that voice in the corner of the room

which sometimes repeated to you, 

low and lower, 

your sorrowful song

then changed to harsh cry –

and tears dried

and the letters of the words

have fallen

searching for a new word for life –

newer

     truer

          simpler.