Their identikits are a mystery.
I couldn’t recognize them
by the reflection
of the wind
Nor by the sensors
On my blind stick.
They walked by me
with sympathy.
...A virtual route of creative and cultural exchange
People
Raed Al-Jishi
Raed Anis Al-JISHI (poet, translator; Saudi Arabia) has published one novel, seven volumes of poems in Arabic and one, Bleeding Gull: Look, Feel, Fly, in English. Alongside a career as a writer, he teaches high school chemistry in his native city of Qateef. He is a feminist and human rights activist, and works on issues involving children and literacy.
Find Raed's Arabic social media (YouTube, Twitter, Facebook) at rabdaljishi. Below are links to his English accounts.
Author's Gallery:
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The frozen water in my eyes, which was scratched by a cat of time is changing the spring I desire, my vinegary dreams, and the songs that love me into a one-... media_text
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I am a Tuareg child. My blue turban drowns me in the waves of sadness, then expels me like seeds of ivory. O! great Tin Hinan, your brave knight lost his way among... media_text
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The language of love is spontaneous,like me, like a painting of a child. I used to draw my house on the left side of the paper. My house was so small, neither doors nor... media_text
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Distances are empty between us. Prayers are love, and when I get drunk by desire I forget from which amulet I wrote myself using its bloody saffron and which I... media_text
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I cannot recognize myself If I don’t wear me. Faces are deceiving without their masks, like that bleeding white gulf. media_text
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There is a holy spot bher eyes where angels burn their feathers And lose their faith. Do not blame me. media_text
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I stand near me Watching that man Come from the land far away. We have the same lisp In our tongue and in our memory. He went through me, And I didn’t notice He stole... media_text
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A flower carried carefully by the wind, the verses of the petals are the hymns of the morning. Time dreams about the flowing dew of intonation Like perfume touching her... media_text
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If the core of rising Is the core of kneeling, where will I direct and to what will I surrender my eyes? From the collection Bleeding Gull: Look Feel Fly media_text
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I have seen gulls,
in holy visions,
hover and invent
the sound of horses.
I have seen them
give alms to rats
hungry for crumbs of bread,
crucified on the altar.
I have seen them
flap their wings and swallow
common...
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And I see peasants singing along the milky road alongside a bull that didn’t know what a plow looks like. And beggars, desert sharpeners like a flock of cheating... media_text
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