STARING AT KIRSTY’S PAINTING OF THE DRUM TOWER IN BEIJING
It’s the ultimate flex;
the ability to make a city
dance swirling pink blossom
and rolling loose gravel;
to throw centuries into collision
and watch the layers go up in flames.
Try to keep time. I imagine
it’s a surprise every day; briefcases clicking,
tourists caught in the crossfire
of camera shots;
the reason why the most beautiful things
are weaponised; maybe
the canon of a Hanfu sleeve
amplifies the way fabric carries sound.
The drummer does not own time,
they keep it, or at least, try
to. Amazing how we let something so
linear run away from us the way the street vanishes at the centre point.
Click, clack, click, clack,
Blue tiles crack open on the pavement
exploding into dust and street food
spices; you know,
it feels like we’ve been here before;
the rails a guiding line to the place
we stood as you pointed out each
hutong, a place to sip cha and listen
to porcelain hum in provenance.
Really there is no such need
for a monument as grand as this.
Give me a snare, a kick, a symbol
and I’ll show you what a rim shot can do,
how it gives meaning to a people
living between the beats. These
are the ghosts a tower cannot house.
Just keep time, the drummer will be
chasing us down the eons.
FAHAD AL-AMOUDI
Also by Fahad,