Burnt Leaves

By Ahmad Al-khatat

Sometimes, it’s better to leave the

past unsaid to anyone untrusted

when the ears hear nothing of delight

but about a world that is breaking

in pieces of dryness and moisture

Little birds of heaven fly above the

graveyard of unknown tombs

Some of them were actually for friends

we met below the season of the bloody war

Where everything seemed too dark to

remember

It’s the evening, I’m drunk

alone drinking and watching my

dreams in a dusty bubble up in

My mind that is filled of burnt leaves

and dead corpses of teenage fighters

The other side of my life is

never silent, I usually hear

the sound of shooting, bombs,

and kids crying by their dead

mothers bed from a shooting that I participated in it

My tears are like the rain

except mine doesn’t bloom,

or grow a branch from a

tree within my dreams in the

seeds, instead I feel I am a soldier with a curse

Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad on May 8th. From Iraq, he came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when he wrote his first poem back in the year 2000. He also has been

published in several press publications and anthologies all over the world. His poems were translated into Farsi, Albanian, German, Chinese, and Serbian. And he currently studies Political Sciences, at Concordia University in Montreal. He recently have published his two chapbooks “The Bleeding Heart Poet” and “Love On The War’s Frontline” with Alien Buddha Press. It is available for sale on Amazon. Most of his new and old poems are also available on his official page Bleeding Heart Poet on Facebook.