I want nothing more than wings
or my soul to cease yearning for flight.
I want to cry out with all my might
without waiting for any question.
I want to free myself from everything that keeps my tears
from their deferred goal
or their final dot on the line.
I want to sing
without being obliged to compose words,
improvise a tune,
or raise my voice.
I want an earth
whose map I can draw
in accordance with the topography of my face,
cleaving its rivers and seas
by way of my tears.
I want another earth
I can conceal in my chest
whenever I want to leave the house
without an abya.
I want a tree that sings,
a sparrow that makes a truce with the wind,
a sea that writes its memoirs each dawn,
and a passport that is accepted at all airports.
About this poem
This poem, representing Kuwait, is part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.