(a poem… by Sha’Tara, testing my own darkness)
Tonight, I said to myself,
When darkness has fallen
I shall let my heart speak.
(A moment of madness
or sudden bravery?)
I do not trust the language of the heart,
The language of emotion, of the past.
I do not trust the memories it recalls
How can I ever prove if they be true or false?
Then my heart speaks:
Distorted images of forgotten memories
Swamp my tired mind.
(I regret, too late, opening that door
to an old past disowned long ago.)
Cold dead things arise from foggy depths,
Feelings, thunderclouds beyond the hills:
They say, this is you, oh yes, this is you!
You made us, we are your past and we are!
Oh heart! Accuser, torturer,
Can you not forget?
Can you not leave me be?
(Have you ever heard its laughter,
your own heart mocking you?)
You should not have opened this Pandora’s box,
All alone in the night, in your own personal darkness.
You cannot put us back in there now, however you try,
We’ll hover forever about your worthless mind.
Will morning dissipate these Djinns?