The Protester

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

How many roadblocks on my way to you?

How many streets filled with fists?

Love is strong but not as strong as
U.S. sanctions and currency exchange rates,
power cuts and blackouts,
hunger,
and the ongoing garbage crisis.

Burning tires.

I see black smoke rising.

I put on a facemask and cross the street.
I remove the facemask.
Why are we afraid of death?

Unshaven and exhausted
with a dirty Lebanese flag on my shoulders
and an unlit cigarette drooping from my lips,
I reach Martyrs’ Square.

But there is no hope, is there?

Where can we go to keep our love alive?

February 3, 2020: Checkmate Instead of Goodnight

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

It’s 4:00 AM, almost dawn. Black and white squares everywhere I look. Sixty-four. I’ve been playing chess all night, fighting to control the center, chasing the enemy’s king. Gambits and sacrifices. From opening to middlegame to endgame… How many games? About a hundred, I guess, or maybe more. Blitz and Bullet. Bishops, Knights, Rooks, and Queens — everything was sacrificed. My time also was sacrificed. This game, the game of the gods, is poison. It’s a board game, yes, but it’s larger than life. “Life is too short for chess,” a great player once said. And he wasn’t joking. No, he couldn’t have been joking. What a game! I’m in bed now, finally, warming my feet under the blanket. But my head is filled with the images and sounds of chessmen. When I close my eyes I see the board. I’m in sinking in quicksand, sinking slowly. I can’t sleep. I have a fever. Tonight, it’s checkmate instead of good night.