Counsel by Mourid Barghouti

Perplexed and not knowing what to do,
he summoned us
and we obeyed.
We stood under his marble balcony:
he looked sad.
His hands have been shaking
since a fortune-teller said to him:
“You’ll die if you do not seek somebody’s counsel.”
He cleared his throat
and mapped us with his eyes.
We almost believed that,
for once,
in a thousand years,
he’d give one of us the chance to speak.
He reached out for a looking-glass,
raised it,
stared at it,
asked it to speak out.
When it did,
he thanked it
then smashed it
lest it should get used
to the right to speak

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