by Yahia Lababidi
You are the deep fissure in my sleep,
that hard reality underneath
a stack of soft-cushioning illusions.
Self-exiled, even after all these years
I remain your ever-adoring captive
I register as inner tremors
– across oceans and continents –
the flap of your giant wing, struggling
to be free and know I shall not rest until
your glorious metamorphosis is complete.
Poem first published at American Circus
About the Author:
Yahia Lababidi is an Egyptian-American thinker and Pushcart-nominated poet, whose work has been translated into nearly a dozen languages. To date, Lababidi is the author of four well-received books, in four different genres: Signposts to Elsewhere (aphorisms), Trial by Ink: From Nietzsche to Bellydancing (essays), Fever Dreams (poems) and most recently, The Artist as Mystic (conversations). His forthcoming book is a collection of short poems, Barely There, out soon from Wipf and Stock. To find out more, click here.