‘Truth is an illusion’

said Nietzsche

For my mother who has never been to school

truth is standing up calmly

after a deluge

planting a garden

with serene hands

speaking the language of trees

and understanding the alphabet of rain

For my mother truth is

reading the silence of my brothers’ faces

as they lie in stone

and seeing in the blueness of the sky

a plume of light tracing a path

which stretches deep

beyond the cloud and the stars

When you can trace the white wings of your dead children

flying over the path of light in the azure of the sky

you don’t need God to die


From Bells of Speech by Nazand Begikhani

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