The Pains of Wandering

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Chapter 6

Adding more burning coal to the journey

[Our bodies were squished, sweating, hurting, and bleeding. It was probably bleeding heartache and wrath; eager to complain.. telepathically, to say the least.. about the sadness of the wandering!

If they converse about what happened.. or what is happening!

About the second one.. yes, but the first one is cursed!

They wish that.. but the journey’s path is congested!

They wish it would just cut its tail, except that it first showed its copper-colored head. Then there were signs of hissing and poison!

Loneliness is a curse..


Five strangers.. we were,

Squeezed in that same Sarfeess.

The day was gray and as soon as we took our places and the vehicle started moving, silence has become the king of the road, except for noises coming from the outside as well as the sounds of breathing. Breaths found it hard to breath in and even breath out! What about, then, an inner conversation, inner monologues?

And how about the sores of the black pain of wandering?

And the echo of marginalization.. there?

The distrust and the harsh humiliation?

Silence on the outside.. fighting with butchering silence on the inside.

Some sounds.. have finally come, within every stop or another!

An old blind man selling gum.. is he really selling gum?!

An eight-year-old boy selling plastic bags and.. does not sell!!!

A red light.. stopped us..

Then.. gas station.. go on.. then stop, then drive again.. after another stop..

The road to al-Zarqaa: the military capital of our beloved country!

A third stop.. a parade, a wedding, then a funeral..

Oh the opposites: death/life.. and.. life/death: dying because of marriage!!!

A speeding camera, a traffic light, a lady selling newspapers.. she is a newspaper beggar!!

Children as old as flowers. The unjust laws of poverty did not do them justice at all.. soft as jasmines, they are the victims of the rhinos..

On both sides.. tents selling watermelons. Other tents selling fruits and vegetables and (American bananas). Pottery seller. Then.. squished bodies/ human meat forced to hug each other: a minor car accident..

Our bodies were squished, dripping sweat, blee..bleeding.. it probably wanted to bleed wrath.

Squished bodies.. very thin bodies.. you can even feel the bones.. since there was probably zero fat44 in the car. Squished bodies that wished they could complain!

Telepathically at least.. due to sorrows of wandering!

If they could converse about what happened or what is happening. Perhaps the latter one because it is safe, and as for the first one, it is cursed!

If they could whisper.. but breaths are hardly coming and the trip is congested!

They wish this long trip could just cut its tail, but it first showed its copper-colored head!

Then there were signs of burring/ stinging/ biting and the remains of hissing and what it sprayed of its poison!

They wish it would cut..! So be it.. after the good wishes and hopes have dried up in a calm moment.. and the lake of wishes has dried up!

Loneliness is a curse..

Day and night.. and the heartbeat sound is buried inside pigs!

Despite that.. the bodies are still, actually.. the foreheads, they wish they could just talk.. just so they can overcome the danger of silence.

Five foreheads..

Trying to sail the sea of noisiness!

Trying to scream. Whereas its (alive) owners are (deadly) silent!!!

The driver’s forehead looked towards the ashtray in front of him, then to the mirror:

Gray.. nothing new!

No difference in the color!

His forehead looked, for the third time, to the side of the forehead that belongs to the one passenger sitting next to his forehead. Then it looked to the mirror.. again, then.. to the ashtray again.. one more time.. no difference in the color!

Five foreheads.. like the color of the ashtray, but.. they sweat! Five foreheads.. in some serious and utter sadness!

Fronts of fire that have seen battles and stories.. drawn on five foreheads that are trying, with their owners, to reveal what is inside.. strong inner echo!!

To tell what is dying to be said!

Thinking.. conversing.. so that it tells the hidden secrets that got buried with the alive/dead.. those who were handed everything as opposed to working for it!

Five foreheads, fighting for their carriers.. their owners.. those owners that are squeezed and trapped inside this Sarfeess.. these foreheads trying to cut the chains of silence, to tell tales and stories, about the gray pains of wandering.

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