The God of Petards

This poem by Mario Azzopardi translated by Charles Briffa is a good way to reflect on the events of last week in Zurrieq:


Our god the god of petards

feeds on shattered fingers,

burst kidneys and punctured lungs.

The god of potash and gelatine

drinks blood erupting from the artery

our god,

eats the testicles of men

ruptured by the bomb.



In the firework factories,

bare-chested men savour the powder,

relish the chlorine from the nitrate

and scribble numbers and recipes

for bursting showers of coloured stars and lightning,

perhaps to light god's face among the stars.



Our god the god of petards

drinks widows'sobbing

and brushes off orphans' cries from his feet.

The god of potash and gelatine

gets drunk with blood bursting from the artery

our god,

drives the fireworks-men insane,

ruptured by the bomb.


This god of petards,

in concert with the patron saints,

burps the human offering with a divine noise:

butchering in small pieces our men,

dismembered in his name, in the firework factory.


And seven years later

or seventy seven years,

in the same arena, before the same temple,

the ragged spirits of the men of flashes,

spin with the coloured Catherine wheel,

in a repeated ritual of the myth-makers.


And then they vanish in clouds of smoke with ghosts,

Wrapped up piece by piece, in a chilling silence.

Travelling Between Shadows by Charles Briffa is a recently published book that introduces the journalistic and literary work of Mario Azzopardi; Mario Azzopardi interviewed by Karl Schembri.