I’m burning my fingers
they’re melting one after the other
slowly, as war passes slowly:
Thumb to bake bread fresh like martyrs’ bodies
Forefinger I put to the little girl’s lips
it warms her heart
so the dread will go & calm will ripen
Middle Finger I raise between the eyes
of the bomb that hasn’t yet reached me
Ring Finger I lend to the woman who lost
her hand & her husband
Little Finger will make my peace
with all the food I hated to eat.
& another five fingers to move the blazing sun aside.
War doesn’t stop
I run out of fingers.
My hands get shorter
fingers grow
my hands melt
fingers grow
my chest melts
my heart,
all of me melts
nothing remains but the fire
flowing from between death’s fingers
fire may choke death
but I’m the one who’s choked to death.
Batool Abu Akleen (born 2005) Palestine
Translated by Cristina Viti
Source: Modern Poetry in Translation
they’re melting one after the other
slowly, as war passes slowly:
Thumb to bake bread fresh like martyrs’ bodies
Forefinger I put to the little girl’s lips
it warms her heart
so the dread will go & calm will ripen
Middle Finger I raise between the eyes
of the bomb that hasn’t yet reached me
Ring Finger I lend to the woman who lost
her hand & her husband
Little Finger will make my peace
with all the food I hated to eat.
& another five fingers to move the blazing sun aside.
War doesn’t stop
I run out of fingers.
My hands get shorter
fingers grow
my hands melt
fingers grow
my chest melts
my heart,
all of me melts
nothing remains but the fire
flowing from between death’s fingers
fire may choke death
but I’m the one who’s choked to death.
Batool Abu Akleen (born 2005) Palestine
Translated by Cristina Viti
Source: Modern Poetry in Translation
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