AHMAD AL-KHATAT - POEMS

​Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad, Iraq. His work has appeared in print and online journals globally and has poems translated into several languages. He has been nominated for Best of the Net 2018. He is the author of The Bleeding Heart Poet, Love On The War’s Frontline, Gas Chamber, Wounds from Iraq, and Roofs of Dreams. He lives in Montreal, Canada.

Love Between the Seasons ​

I see
you in 
the blue sky,
you 
became 
a dark cloud
I dream 
of you in 
a rainbow,
you dream 
of me in 
autumn

​

Am I
​

Weak am I, 
no longer am I the knight of a stranger’s dark dream
sad am I,
with a thirsty spirit seeking for a bloody river
lost am I,
I cannot find a way to heal my wounds during the day
drunk am I, 
running away from people’s hateful judgments
sick am I,
waiting on the bullet to end my miserable hope
fool am I,
for believing in tears, and ignoring the mouths of lies
who am I,
today I am miserable for writing on the city walls 
who will I be,
nothing but a drunk writer in a forgotten cemetery


​

Writing a Letter
​

I will be writing a letter
to nobody brave or I know
I want to say I am sorry
for the ones, who hurts me before
I know that life is more
than one locked door
perhaps, my heart is the 
house with broken lock to protect me
yet, my enemy win over my 
innocent moves, his words 
are sharp knives, and my answers
are the seeds of the plants in heaven
being blind means, you are
gifted, you just believe in the
ones who wishes you death 
and nothing else of good in darkness



​

I am not Alone
​

O people, I am not alone in this world
my spirit may be tired of my wounds 
I’m seldom hopeless to find the door
to knock on, to open and, forgive me
they say that love comes very softly
under the stars, in front of my sight
she will be beautifully hostage on the
one-way bridge to the blinding light
up in the smoke of my cigarettes
I taste her lips, when I add a teaspoon
of earth and sea, in my cup of 
nostalgia, of her body and scent
the bitter flavour of lonesome
it’s the time, I draw her on the mist
a stranger is watching me in tears
even though he doesn’t know me
I am not alone, but you are alone
you will miss me, when my blood
will be the cut of a sacred river,