At first I was all for it….
a revolution? Why not?
I’d gone east when it started
and coming home
the city was changed,
quiet, tanks blankly
staring on corners
snipers on the roofs
and I could not reach my wife
Nasreen…untouchable… perfect jewel…..
fear made me impotent
my sons were unmade
I was alone in the night
and this was the price of freedom…
Then the TV showed
the rebels frying a human heart
with smiles and a joke
I vomited
unable to accept
but little choice ….
Now I’m a good revolutionary
though I scratch my head sometimes.
My mate Sharif feels the same….
he’d make a good foreign secretary
what with his languages
and so on.
I still remember the TV though
It was like Eid….
where you slaughter a sheep humanely
then skin and cook and eat,
celebrate with your loved ones
except with this
the human was skinned first
kept alive as long as possible
while the nurses in burkas
sliced him with scalpels
saying this is the flesh
the flesh of a rat
and Sharif was there
with a gun…..
I’m sure he’d make
a good foreign secretary….
what with his languages
and so on
and me,
I’ll start a human resources company
come the summer