Photo credit: Hakim El Haj
The Beauty of Hell
By Farah Abdul
I am clinging onto life by only a thread.
That is, in fact, what life is, you see;
a string to escort you to one of two places when you’re dead,
either the domicile of the seraphs, or the lair of hades.
Will the sirens deceive me into walking straight through hell?
Their beautiful voices have already tricked me, so they don’t have to yell.
Fret not, my pretty sirens
for I will follow you at any time wherever you go!
I am like a sailor lost at sea in the midst of a tragic storm, environed
by your everlasting beauty that I will appreciate as you glow.
Although I know that I am making a very tragic mistake,
I cannot help myself from following them, as a conflicted spirit, into their deadly lake.
The sirens might be selling my soul
to the devil as I ascend with them to what they say is heaven.
They are indeed my deadly goal
and I will stop at nothing to get them even though I am missing out on the layers of the seven.
They have cut off my string
and have left me stranded, not alone, but with their voices and the songs they sing.
Oh, is this not the fate of every human?
To be so easily deceived by what they call beauty?
Their voices have sent me to a dark place where I am met with other men,
so surely the one to be deceived is not only me.
Oh why have you done this, my silver-tongued angel of death?
I was torn between two places, but I chose the path with you,
the one that tore away my happiness and my breath.