Friday, April 28, 2006


They were quoting you

Murmuring your name like a prophet coming from afar

From whose mouth a unique music issues

My own French was not good enough even to purchase bread decently

But the ring of your name

In the sidewise discussions had a special magic

Which for long put my extreme ignorance to shame

Migration is a sacred right, you said once

Nobody said that before you, and no one dared say it after

In this country which we married for love

I, Mohamed, Abdelkader, and Fatima

And other Arabs whose dusty names this poem is too narrow to contain.

Until now I haven’t met anyone who could explain the mysteries of your obscure expression

Laws say the opposite from one government to the other

And the caretaker is French of Portuguese origin

Yet he looks down on philosophers

I was in the subway stealing glances at a newspaper someone was reading

When I saw your name printed in bold, and the headline your death

It seems you threw yourself from the window

But why all those who love you to blindness

Love life more than anything else

I felt ashamed of my ignorance once again

And hated myself in plain Arabic

Despite the grumblings of the coloured owner of the newspaper

Migration is a sacred right

An expression which is enough it was once said

For me every morning to pursue my own sacred right

Seeking your protection O Gilles Deleuze



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