From above, bodies intersect in lines and squares and circles — they look like scars on the face of the earth. Also read a mini-interview with Mikahil at The Rumpus. An essay adapted from Dunya Mikhail’s The Beekeeper (tr. From above, forms are shadows of reality, like those in Plato’s Cave. From above, the burnt fields and bewildered animals look more like an abstraction. From above, there are no souls, only bodies, but they are seen as hollow forms, moving the way atoms do in the universe — unseen. The material in The Nation comes from the center of the book, when the poet is talking about her own life and memories:
My home was in that little spot right there. Keep reading at The Nation. Advertisements
Share this:TwitterFacebookEmailPrintLinkedInRedditGoogleTumblrWhatsAppPinterestTelegramPocketSkypeLike this:Like Loading…‹ A Sudanese Celebration of Sarah Maguire (1957-2017), Founder of the Poetry Translation Centre in LondonCategories: Iraq From above, it’s possible for bodies to disappear, to assimilate into water or earth or fire or air. From above, it isn’t possible to see inside the houses, to recognize the lives of the inhabitants, their struggles over the little things and the big things, their movements getting slower and slower all the time. Mikhail and Max Weiss) is available at The Nation:
Mikhail’s book — part biography, part poetry, part memoir — was named one of the Christian Science Monitor’s “Best Books of March.” You can also hear it discussed in Episode 8 of the Bulaq podcast. Can you see it? The signs on the paths reflect the loss of souls or bodies or both.