HABIB TENGOUR
we don’t wail the way we used to
so many people die each day that our hearts
refuse to register grief
is this a metamorphosis
Shadows 3
All these dead
whom we never see
was it part of their destiny to die
women children youths old men and soldiers
many are like poor Alpenor
not even able to keep their balance
the newspapers sometimes grant them a column
despite the censors
we say that they are numerous so we forget them
Shadows 10
All these dead
who slowly slip out of our lives
what have we o√ered them in all this time
words too unraveled to give birth to the poem
words held back by regret or that fear
suspended before our eyes
since the dawn of time as the old saying goes
words whose usage becomes obscure to us
we ask ourselves sometimes about the celebration
their splendor fails to illuminate our strange desire for memory
—marilyn hacker