a poem by Najem Eisa

I tend to go on a walk
to forget how to stalk
so I can listen to nature talk.
It tells me to take a rest
and I embrace it like a guest.
This feeling deep in my chest
searching for attention.
From him, me or you
losing touch in that hue
not green, not grey, not blue.
Surprisingly tender.
And I still wonder
between here and there
every footstep in despair
my legs need a chair
a way too long to bear
but I do care
about me.

It keeps stretching this mile
I’m swimming in the Nile
on my phone I dial
no more.
It may have been May
now leaves are in decay.
You must be healing
whilst I’m stuck to my ceiling –
to the skies leading –
a ray of emotions feeling –
not dealing.
But there is no escape
no light at the end of the tube
wheels made out of cubes
it is frozen, the Danube.
And still
he made the water run through
and I stood in a queue
but in the end. I went.
So you did, too.