Qasida for Abdel Wahab Yousif

Philip Metres

***

in the dream, I wake
treading the underwater
in the black beneath I see

like horses galloping
the gloom of the sea
they wrestle the living salt

fight to rise to the shore of light
but their pockets and shoes are full
of the stones of grief

their mouths open
to no words

but stones

and why do I see them
from beneath

 

***

“Shipwreck off Libya”

I read the head
-line and the story
and you are
nowhere inside
you are among the 45
missing and presumed

***

Ya Abdel Wahad Yousif, I
                                 call out to you

                                                  at the boundary of salt and sky
                                                  aching for echo

             I can’t fit the sea in the basin

                                                  between my ears

***

                                                  You are destined to go

you wrote, which, when it touches
our eyes and tongue, means our

                                                  head rocked by the roaring waves,
                                                  [our] body swaying in the water,
                                                  like a perforated boat

                                                                        carrying dozens of

                                                                                                                                                                         [of obscure origin]

                  sea                                                                            missing and presumed

                                  capsizing

***

“From Darfur to Libya he scraped his way”

Ya Abdel, how could you see
and still climb into the boat
and not turn away

                                                  You’ll die at sea

the waters prevailed

                                                  You’ll die at sea

you wrote it was destiny
but isn’t destiny
another name
for
                                                                    dying:
                                                  Time. Language.
                                                  Screams. Dreams.
                                                  Songs. Love. Music.

***

forgive us our imperial
din
forgive us our doorless
borders

***

قَالَ رَبِّ اغْفِرْ لِي وَهَبْ لِي مُلْكًا لَا يَنْبَغِي لِأَحَدٍ مِنْ بَعْدِي ۖ إِنَّكَ أَنْتَ الْوَهَّابُ

Lord, forgive me, and grant me
a kingdom

that no one
should follow after me

***

Ya Abdel,

I dreamt of you last night, holding
the sea in your arms like a lover, you
kissing its wet mouth, you
at last at rest in its endless bed, your heart
knocking me awake, as if
I could not

***

why should the waters prevail

***

                                                  it’s all in vain

you write,

                                                  no flash of light
                                                  to scare away the darkness

***

the jaws of the sea
waving
the only welcoming

***

may God grant you a kingdom beyond
                the kingdom of empires

and warlords beyond
                                                  the kingdom of the sea beyond

the kingdom of the drowning stones beyond

the kingdom of the kingdom
                                                                   beyond
                 the kingdom belonging to no one
because it belongs to everyone beyond
the doors of the sea

a floating place, a garden                                                                          the waters will veil

                                                  a garden of words
                                                  beyond words

                                  that rises

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Headshot of Philip Metres.

Philip Metres has written twelve books, including Fugitive/Refuge (2024) and Shrapnel Maps (2020). Winner of three Arab American Book Awards, a Guggenheim, and two NEA fellowships and a Pushcart Prize, he is professor of English and director of the Peace, Justice, and Human Rights program at John Carroll University.

In Fugitive/Refuge, Philip Metres follows the journey of his refugee ancestors—from Lebanon to Mexico to the United States—in a vivid exploration of what it means to long for home. A book-length qasida, the collection draws on ancient poetic traditions and invents new forms—odes and arabics, sonnets and close-ups, prayers and documentary voicings, heroic couplets and homophonic translations—to confront the perils of our age: forced migration, climate change, and toxic nationalism.

Fugitive/Refuge pronounces the urge both to remember the past and to forge new ways of being in language. In one section, Metres meditates on the Arabic greeting “ahlan wa sahlan,” framing these older forms of welcome as generous, embodied ways to respond to the digital alienation and mass migration of postmodern societies. In another section, he dialogues with Dante to inform new ways of understanding ancestral and modern migrations and the injustices that have burdened them. Ultimately, Metres uses movement to create a new place—one to home and dream in—for all those who seek shelter.

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