موت الفتى عباس

يمه ما أريدك تونين أو تعتبين

يمه كل أعمارنا فدوة للحسين

تظل معلوقة بحزن شمعة شبابي

أبد ما تطفى وتظل تضوي بغيابي

صبري يايمة على لوعة مصابي

ولا تلكمين القلب لما تونين

Abbas is not a hapless victim

of an ill-fated incident.

Abbas is the name of the rose

of the poignant cause

of a vanquished nation.

which, like every vanquished nation,

fails to see itself as one.

Abbas is a requiem for a people on the cross

pinned down and disarmed.

(no one of Abbas people know much about bullets or triggers

much less see one, hold one, or be intimate with one

unless it’s the intimacy of the bullet and the skull).

Abbas is a nation's open wound

as deep as the distance

between a budding officer under arm,

and an uninsured security guard

at a club of revelers night.

(And on the tenth day,

on Easter’s Monday

Abbas rose from the dead

to Martyrdom).