A Forest without a Gatekeeper

A Forest without a Gatekeeper

Inspired by the book of ‘Calila & Dumnah’

By Tarif Youssef Agha

It is said that once upon a time

There was a Forest without a Gatekeeper

The one who goes in, doesn’t know whether he will return

Its rulers love cutting off heads

***

A forest that had no King, but just a President

He issued no orders and owned no properties

His heart was always beating for his people!

If you listen to him, it is as if you listen to an angle

***

He appointed a Lizard as his Vice-president

A Lizard that you hardly can hear or see

Bless a Forest where a Lizard has an office

Even so no one believes that except the Lizard itself

***

That Forest had a Government like no other

Its members were those of ears, tongues and titles

Long ears that don’t hear and long tongues that don’t talk

But longer than their ears and tongues were their tails

***

Their minister, the Elephant, swallowed a whole continent

Then asked for more

It always insisted that elephants fly

After all, it flew with its regime

***

Another minister, the she-Vulture, had a swing (proverb)

She thought that screaming would benefit her

And that if she would make some jumps in the air

The folks would agree to stay in captivity

***

The Pigs thought that if they keep lying

Then every one will end up believing them

And the Rats thought that, because they are rats

Their skills will save them from the flood of that spring

***

One of their Serpents was kicked out of their neighbors’ assembly

And was advised to wash its tongue with soap

Other Serpents in great forests were summoned

They were told ‘we know what you are doing’

***

The Forest had a Mufti and Sheikh who look respectful

Both of them belonged to the gender of the Owl

Their fatwa’s (religious decrees) were ready in tons

Each one of them had a round turban on his head (folk’s song)

***

For the Forest’s Congress, they chose a group of Leaches

They survive only on blood sucking

They have neither face nor expression

But it doesn’t matter; the seat’s price is money and loyalty

***

The security of the jungle was assigned to a herd of Hyenas

Every one knows that Hyenas were not created to fight

In the time of peace, they walk behind the Tigers

But in the time of war, they leave the Rabbits behind

***

What a big number of Locusts we had in our Forest

They used to leave no food for others, neither fresh nor dry

One of them was the President’s relative

It used to get its shares while sitting doing nothing

***

No one there dared to even talk

As the regime suppressed every one

Locusts, as you know, have neither a political party nor a religion

All of them were partners in robbing and jailing the others

***

Nevertheless, this relative was one of the best (available)

As all others were Scorpions

They still rob and steal as that relative

But killing is a duty in their job description

***

Also, what a big number of Zebras we had

Those who mixed between the neighing and the braying

And there was a Crow who claimed it was a dentist and also nationalism’s wise-man

But it kept annoying every one with its caw

And there was a Frog who thought it was a genius in politics

But filled the world with its croaking, day and night

And there was a she-Chameleon who became real old and ugly

So she tried to run after the fading offers

***

What, also, a big number of allies our Forest had abroad

Especially from those who wear beards and robes

They used to do what Snakes do

Then hid in the feathers of Doves

***

An old Bear used to keep returning to the Forest

It used to think that it was still young

But the scabies invaded whatever is left of its hair

And the rust covers whatever is left of its claws and fangs

***

A Dragon that always narrowed its heart, beside its eyes

Very gifted and skillful in playing with fire

And had a rich history in shedding blood

Even we saw it sometimes walking in a monk’s gown

***

That was, and still is, a Forest of nightmares

If you head to it, it is as if you punish yourself

Its lands are jails and its trees are gallows

Its rain is of bullets, and its wind never stops wailing

***

Poetry by: Tarif Youssef-Agha

An expatriate Arab Syrian Writer & Poet

Houston, Texas

Friday December 23, 2011

http://sites.google.com/site/tarifspoetry