Humour can be biting, born of grief, heartbreak, and more ⎯ it not only packs a satirical punch but also offers vulnerability and insight. Today, we’re reading “This Is Not a Good Time to Forget About the Land,” by Jenan Afaneh, from Room 48.1 Wits End.
“This Is Not a Good Time to Forget About the Land”
by Jenan Afaneh
I have never seen a goldfinch.
Only its confiscated carcass,
Muffled and withered on the lapel of a border.
I have never seen a mole rat.
Only pebbles of its feces,
Clustered like a perfect circle,
Marking its passing through home.
I have never seen a wolf.
Only a jackal, rushing like a mother,
Away from a mirror.
I have never seen a river.
Only a lake, eerie and mossed,
Like a rasping telegraph,
Or a valley turned checkpoint.
Forget about the seeing!
The moss does not become a river—
Does not become a mirror.
The moss becomes:
The flesh of the wolf,
The goldfinch,
The mole rat.
The moss becomes the jackal,
Becomes me,
Rushing toward the land.
I am holding the tree.
I am picking the mushrooms,
The poppy,
The pebbles that look like feces.
I am lifting my eyes,
I am just about to see the river.
