Poem of the day-Taha Muhammed Ali

Today's poem from Poetry Foundation is by Taha Muhammed Ali (b. 1931.) He's interesting for a few reasons. He is Palestinian and self-taught. He is also a short story writer. His day job is running a souvenir shop in Nazareth. Rather than writing in Fus-ha like the classic poets he studied, he blends Fus'ha with colloquial (what a headache that would be trying to decipher it unless you were a native Levant speaker or very fluent.)

This poem is from his collection So What.

Abd el-Hadi Fights a Superpower

By Taha Muhammad Ali

In his life

he neither wrote nor read.

In his life he

didn’t cut down a single tree,

didn’t slit the throat

of a single calf.

In his life he did not speak

of the New York Times

behind its back,

didn’t raise

his voice to a soul

except in his saying:

“Come in, please,

by God, you can’t refuse.”

 

               —

 

Nevertheless—

his case is hopeless,

his situation

desperate.

His God-given rights are a grain of salt

tossed into the sea.

 

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury:

about his enemies

my client knows not a thing.

And I can assure you,

were he to encounter

the entire crew

of the aircraft carrier Enterprise,

he’d serve them eggs

sunny-side up,

and labneh

fresh from the bag.