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Ashraf Aboul Yazid


I will go back to the empty house

With five masks:

A mask for me,

And a mask for the doll in the toy house,

A mask for a chair;

it once had a friend sitting on it!

There will be a mask for the angry face of my tragedy

In the mirror,

And a mask over my pillow,

To stop transmitting the infection to me,

From any face in my dreams.

But fear attacks my head,

It enters me, clings to me, and messes with my cup,

The wicked thoughts threaten me,

Since there is no mask to prevent them from killing me,

And leaving the dead body without fingerprints.

The dictator is not the man responsible for canceled papers

In his office at “Immigration and Passports”,

He is not the traffic officer in the street

Who gives me

Thousands of fines, whenever I pass!

Not the head of municipality

Who digs under the house searching for

A pedestrian bridge,

Not our governor,

Who records those who missed the elections,

Not their boss who directs all of them with a stick …

Dictator is fear of death,

That lives in each and every life.

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