‘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