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AL JARIDA AL MAGHRIBIA
NOVEMBER 1997





Poem:


SCORCHED



Just because the fire's out

And there's only the smell of smoke

It does not mean the burns are forgotten.

Heart-fingers remember the blistering

Mine, too well.

I cannot help but think

You may be another one

Cleverly disguised as tantalizing

As I feel my foolish self

Reaching for you.

Are those flashes that I see sparking at me

Hot cinders amongst the dry brush?

Still, there is nothing

I can do to stop myself 

For as moth draws to a flame

So too does your light seem to me.

How many times will my wings be singed

Before I can no longer fly?


                                        Hamza Benamar
                                          January'97




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Created :02/07/97.

Last updated :29/08/97.